


A Fullness of Heart and a Passionate Grief

by lisacali



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-12
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:38:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisacali/pseuds/lisacali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This AU takes place during Elizabethan England. Keller is a knight, wrongly imprisoned, Beecher his best friend and recent love interest. It is up to Beecher and O'Reily to help Keller escape the vengeance of his jailer, Count Shillinger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fullness of Heart and a Passionate Grief

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES: Okay. The first part of this story was originally written for the Hardtime 100 Flashfiction Challenge #34 - Anywhere But Oz. It was fleshed out and prettied up a little in honor of rileyc's birthday. I have done minimal research on this fic, but I tried to get most of it right, like the clothing and names of towns, (though I did make some up) and the fact that for a while, around this time, there was not a Duke of Warwick. The title comes from a line in a book about Eleanor of Aquitaine by Alison Weir.
> 
> ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:I would like to thank my good friend Pat for doing the beta on this, but as is my way, I stayed up way into the night finishing it, and she didn't see the final, final draft. So the mistakes you find will be on me. Thank you also to pride of erin for her reassurance on some parts. Thank you! And also a big hug and thanks to everyone at Oz Big Bang for putting this all together again! Yay, mods!! And tip of the hat to ozsaur for the original prompt!

### A Fullness of Heart and a Passionate Grief  
by Lisacali

At the apartment door, the guard who had accompanied Tobias instructed him that his time with the prisoner would be limited. Nodding his understanding, he reached for the door handle, but paused as he noticed his hand shaking. Conscious of the guard’s eyes on him he took no more time to quell his nerves, but quickly wiped his palm down the front of his cloak and entered the room; waiting to be noticed, he looked around. It was a smallish room but well appointed, with a table and chairs, a desk, and comfortable, clean bedding on the wood-framed bed. There were two windows, which would help cool the room in the summer heat, and a fireplace, as well as rugs and tapestries for warmth in the winter.

The prisoner was at the desk, intent on the paper he was writing. He was dressed simply in a white linen shirt and long hose. Tobias undid the tie on his cloak and let it fall, revealing similar clothes of leisure beneath. “Leave it on the table, please,” Christopher waved without looking up.

“What I have to offer cannot be put down and left, I’m afraid,” Tobias answered.

Christopher looked up, and was on his feet in an instant. A bright smile replaced the initial shock. “My eyes have burned for the sight of you,” he said after several seconds of gazing upon the other man. They then came together, holding each other tightly, trying to put past them the many months apart.

“And the feel of you in my arms is food for a starving man,” Tobias answered, relieved beyond measure that the other was in such a healthy state of mind and body.

Christopher pulled back, holding Tobias by the shoulders. His eyes raked up and down with such intent that Tobias was forced to pull away.

“Not even a kiss?” Christopher asked.

“Is it your due, now?” Tobias smiled nervously. “We shared one kiss many months ago. Will that now be our form of greeting?”

“Would you object?”

Tobias turned, studying the hangings on the wall. When he turned back, his smile stayed, yet his eyes were somber. “I have thought of nothing else. And truth be told, I am scared.”

“Of me?” Christopher stepped closer.

“Of you,” Tobias admitted, “and of myself. I am not sure how to step in this new relationship of ours. I have come to accept it, yet it still bewilders me. I have known so many years as friend, now...” He stopped, not knowing the words to finish his thoughts.”

Christopher moved even closer and gently pulled Tobias into his arms. “And now, you do not know how to act as lover.” He touched Tobias’ cheek and kissed him softly on the other. “Though I have wished for this day for years, I wish to go slowly. If anything were to happen to harm our friendship, I would never forgive myself for admitting my true feelings to you.

They stood that way, searching each other’s eyes, until Tobias licked his lips and tilted his head toward Christopher. The kiss started as softly as a feather touch, but quickly grew in passion. Christopher’s hands were soon on his face, holding him still under the loving assault on his mouth. Tobias wrapped his arms around his friend, holding him close, feeling the heat of his passion and finding himself returning it in full.

He could scarce believe that this was actually happening. It was only half a year ago that Christopher, his long-time friend, the best he had, had confessed that his feelings were no longer that of friend, but much more. And while Tobias had felt his world change as he knew it, it seemed to change for the right. It was going against all he knew to be true – Church and State – yet he felt that somehow, this was the truth he should follow. Still, this truth, taken in the form of physical interaction, had Tobias trembling in Christopher’s arms, and he pulled back just before there came a knock on the door.

Tobias went a bit unsteadily to the table, dropping into a chair, while Christopher opened the door. A serving maid entered with a tray of bread, butter, and mead, leaving it on the table.

Tobias took a long draught of the ale, to quench his thirst after the journey, but also to calm his senses.“Will you join me?” Tobias asked when she was gone. “I did not stop to eat in my hurry to see you again.”

“Many words have more than one meaning,” Christopher said, a leer upon his lips, “your word ‘join’ could be taken as one.”

Tobias was startled and dismayed at the flicker of flame ingnited in his belly at these words. “What of your words just now, to go slowly. Were they spoken merely to obtain that kiss?”

Christopher was leaning against the desk, a smirk upon his lips. “Is your plan to always keep me at a distance, as you did when we were at court?”

Tobias leapt to his feet. “A distance!” He shook his head in disbelief. “We were together at every moment!”

“As friends, as merry-makers, yes. But I craved more of you.”

Tobias sighed. “I gave what I could. I did not know what to make of your actions, once you revealed your intentions. You pursued me so relentlessly…”

“That is because once I decided to admit my true feelings, I realized the return of your affection was the only answer I could accept.” Christopher smiled. “I believe you enjoyed the chase.”

“You did gain your reward, did you not?”

Christopher rubbed his fingers across his lips. “Your kiss was the sweetest gift I have ever received.”

Tobias looked upon Christopher, his eyes heavy with love and sorrow. “And now I fear your touch, knowing it may be the last.”

Christopher reached out his hand, moving it over Tobias’ face, not quite touching him. “You would rather have naught to remember me by?”

Tobias grabbed Christopher’s hand, pressing it to his breast. “My heart would be broken by the loss of you – need I have that memory to repeatedly pierce the jagged pieces?”

Christopher slid his hand up and gently squeezed the other’s shoulder. “Could that memory not salve the wound?”

“I think not.”

“Then you and I are different. I would gladly die with the taste of you on my lips.”

“Fool,” Tobias admonished, but his eyes were warm.

“Love makes fools of us all,” was the reply.

“Some more than others,” Tobias chided. He cupped Christopher’s face between his hands and looked deeply into blue orbs. “The Queen wants a confession.” He was serious now, his words a plea. “She will not leave you in this relative luxury. She will grow impatient and move you elsewhere. There are many room of confinement here at the Tower, you know. I would not visit you in a dungeon, or worse, not be able to see you at all.”

Christopher moved away, pacing the room, his arms wrapped around himself. When he stopped and turned toward Tobias, his look was tortured. “You wish me to confess to a crime I am innocent of, and when I do? Will the Queen be satisfied and let me go? Or will my head join that of other innocents?”

“She will not behead you, this you know. You are a favorite of hers.”

“And yet here I sit.” Christopher’s lips curled in a twisted smile. “At one time, perhaps, her affection for me would have been enough to let this go. But now, after…”

“That was not your fault and she knows it. As for your current situation, I think perhaps, if appeased by a confession, she would consider exile as a proper punishment.”

“Exile.” Christopher fixed his gaze upon Tobias until the other was forced to look away. “I proposed that idea once, if you recall.”

“Yes,” Tobias answered, moving to the window, unable to appreciate the beauty of the cool spring day. “You proposed that you and I leave all we know – betray family, Queen and country – to sail off to wild, unknown lands.”

“The Queen has already turned her back to me. As for family, we would have each other, is that not enough? Or would you miss too much your shrewish wife?”

Tobias, turned, his eyes pained. “Do not torture me with reminders of what may have been. If I had agreed to your plan, we would be gone, and you would not be in this place!”

“And if I confess, and she agrees upon exile, would you go with me now?”

Tobias cast his eyes downward. “I do not know.”

Christopher laughed darkly, and threw his hands into the air. “Fair enough. And you would not care that I traded honor for life?”

Toby went to Christopher, grabbing his arms. “All would know you were innocent, such things happen all the time. The Queen must be appeased, in whatever way possible.”

“You are a man of letters and the law, Tobias, familiar with the ways of government. But I am not. I have only what is in here,” he struck his fist upon his chest, “to guide me. It may seem desirable to you for me to besmirch my name and lie in order to save my head.” He slammed his fist on the desk. “It is not that way for me!”

“God’s teeth, this is not fair!” Tobias grabbed his half-full mug of ale and flung it against the wall. He fell onto the edge of the bed, holding his head in hands. “It has been months since our friendship turned, since you confessed your true feelings and I risked my immortal soul to admit I felt the same. And what have we to show?”

Christopher came to him, knelt before him, taking his hands into his own, but Tobias would not raise his head. “Since I left court,” the distraught man continued, “all I have thought of is the kiss we shared. One kiss has tortured and bewildered me. One kiss has sustained and driven me. But how will I go on thinking there may be no more? How will I survive with the pain of my decision not to sail off with you?” He slid from the bed to his knees; bowing his head, he wrapped his arms about his lover’s waist.

Christopher rubbed his hands over the prostrate body. “Tobias, do not condemn yourself. My request to you came quickly and impulsively on the heels of that kiss. Even if you had said yes, I am quite certain we would have never carried out such a life-altering decision. We could not imagine that the Queen’s temper would turn on me like this.”

They came to their feet. Christopher wrapped his hand around Tobias’ neck, playing his fingers through the soft curls there. “Please, promise me, Toby,” he pleaded, using the intimate nickname in his urgency, “you will not bear this burden of guilt.”

“That I cannot promise, Christy,” Tobias answered, using his own familiar name for the other man in return. “But I will try – for you.”

Their lips met softly in a kiss, this one long and slow and gentle, hands on each other’s face, in each other’s hair, committing to memory that which would soon be deprived of them, aware that time was not their friend. Tobias reveled in the moment, wondered at it, considered how this loving joining of the two could be called Sin.

Christopher’s hands slid down Tobias’ backside, around to rub his belly and thighs. “You are too dressed,” he whispered against the man’s neck.

Tobias pulled away, breathless and reeling, his senses charred at the sensuous touch. “You are almost too persuasive,” he whispered, thrilled and appalled at the nature of their talk.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Christopher assured, “I would not force the issue. Besides,” he continued as they sat facing each other at the small table, “such a moment will be too precious as to risk interruption.” He took up Tobias’ hand, and the depth of sincerity burning in his eyes caused a shiver through the other’s body; he grasped hard of Christopher’s fingers. “When the moment arrives, and have no doubt it will, I would make it the most amazing affair of your lifetime.”

Christopher smiled wickedly, and Tobias realized the other man knew the effect he was having on him, both in body and spirit. “If the Queen’s accusation of you had been witchcraft,” Tobias declared, “I do not believe I would have much room to doubt her. You have certainly bewitched me, Sir Christopher.” It truly did feel that way, for the act of two men lying together carried with it the surety of damnation. Yet, to think of the same with Christopher, he was at once terrified and filled with a longing and excitement he had not previously felt, even in the early years of his marriage.

Christopher pushed back from the table, stretching his legs full in front of him. “Are you saying that I have put a spell on you to cause your feelings, and it is not simply your lustful desire to sample this feast before you?” He held his arms out to his side, his body displayed fully before the other. “You yourself said earlier that I was food for a starving man, did you not?”

Tobias shook his head. “Or perhaps it is your chastity and humble manner that draw me to you?”

At this light-hearted turn, the men began a conversation of matters outside the confining room in which they sat. They reminisced on their last time together, at Elizabeth’s court, celebrating a year of bountiful harvest and prosperity with dances and games and hunting. Tobias spoke of his manor, and the villages under his care, while Christopher regaled Tobias with tales of his exploits in the tournaments of which he had participated since they had parted.

“Did you know,” Christopher asked as he split the last piece of bread between them, “that I was on my way to see you at the time of my arrest? When you did not make Court for the Christmas celebration, I despaired of seeing you again.”

“I had hoped to return for Christmas, but when the Court moved to Winchester, and I was not personally summoned, my wife declared it too far south for us to travel. It was closer for us to spend the season with her parents at Oxford.”

“And did you enjoy your time amongst books and scholars?”

“I did find much to discuss with the teachers there,” Tobias admitted. “Genevieve and her parents could not look down upon my leaving the house for so noble a reason as to further educate myself, though I am sure they were not completely fooled as to my true reasons for wanting to escape.” He sighed heavily. “The air surrounding my marriage grows colder every year.”

“I wish you could be rid of her,” Christopher declared.

“I seem to recall that you thought Genevieve a good match for me at the time.”

“You wanted marriage, Tobias,” Christopher gently reminded, “and she brought much to the table.”

“Lands and money are of little comfort when the soul and body are lonely.” Tobias sat staring at table, trying not to think of the sad state of his marriage. “It was weeks after our return home that I learned of your arrest,” he said, picking up the thread of conversation started moments earlier. “And months still until I was granted permission to visit.”

His troubled gaze caressed Christopher’s face as he held his hand. “And I was informed that it will be some time before I am allowed back.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I cannot stay to find out when that may be. I must return home for the spring planting. Many of my vassals were lost over the winter when illness spread through the villages. I must be there.” Remorse and regret were heavy in his voice.

Christopher smiled fondly at the troubled man. “You are a good overlord, Toby. Do not feel guilt over doing what you must. And as you said, we have no way of knowing when you may return.” His smile turned cold. “Elizabeth will have her way in this, thinking that to deny me she will break me.”

He got to his feet and went to the desk; looking through the small pile of papers there he pulled two free, folded them and tied them with string. “Here,” he said, holding them out to Tobias, who quickly got to his feet and took them. “This is for my father.” Christopher swallowed hard, his eyes misting over. “I have sent word for him to remain in Reading, he is ill and should not travel. If you can take the time to stop, let him know I am well…I know it will set you back some time…if it is not possible… “ Christopher trailed off, his expression more distraught than ever during their meeting.

“Shhh, hush, of course I can see him.” Tobias put his fingers to Christopher’s mouth and cradled his head in his other hand. “It would please me greatly to see your father again.” He smiled, a glint in his eye. “And hear more stories of your wicked childhood. I hope he still has that magnificent wine collection?”

“He does,” Christopher answered, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes, “and he will gladly share all with an eager listener for his stories.” He kissed Tobias soundly on the cheek. “Just do not believe all he has to say - I was not so wicked.”

Tobias wrapped his arms around the other and held him tightly, willing himself to stay strong for Christopher. They remained that way until the inevitable knock on the door.

“Enter,” Christopher called, taking a step back.

A young man, dark-haired and startling blue-eyed, came into the room. He bowed toward Tobias. “Viscount, Sir Edmund has requested I tell you your time is at an end.”

“Thank you, Ronald. It is good to see you again.” He meant the words as he said them, but could not help the stilted tone.

“Go now, Ronald,” Christopher instructed. “Make sure Lord Beecher’s horse is fully watered, then bring it to the front gate. He will be down presently.”

After the boy had left, Toby said, more stiffly than he meant. “I am glad they let him stay to serve you.”

“Only because you offered to pay for his keep while he is here.” Christopher’s tone was bitter.

“It is an affront that Elizabeth would keep your monies from you.”

Christopher shrugged off his rancor. “I have enough to pay the gaoler and the guards for time about the grounds. But not enough to pay for Ronald’s food or to give him wages.”

“Wages I hope he is earning.”

Christopher moved up behind Tobias, wrapping his arms around him. “Is that what has you in this sudden dark mood? The thought of what the boy is doing to earn his keep?”

“I know what he does, you have talked of him before.” Tobias leaned, almost unwillingly, against the man behind him. “And when he came to tell me of your arrest I could tell by his distraught nature how much he cares for you. Whatever is needed of him to keep you content, I will not go against.”

“You are a good man, Toby. I do not think I would pay for another to warm your bed.”

Tobias shook his head, wishing no more of this conversation. “We are men of different constitutions, Christy. This has forever been your way of life. I would not ask that you change anything about that. Yet.”

Christopher turned Tobias brusquely, bringing them to face each other. His eyes were anguished and glistening. One hand went to the back of Tobias’ head, holding tight soft, golden curls. The other cupped the man’s face, while Christopher stared deeply into Tobias’ wondering eyes.

“What is it, Christy?”

Christopher shook his head, slow and deliberate. “God, sweet God, I do not want you to leave me. I love you, Tobias, my Toby. I love you.”

Tobias took in a deep, shuddering breath. The first time, the only other time, Christopher had said these words it had scared his very soul. Thoughts of excommunication and the tortures of Hell had chased round in his mind, and though he had eventually let Christopher kiss him, and kissed him willingly and passionately in return, he had not answered, not in words. He knew Christopher would understand, and accept his kiss as answer enough.

This time the words did not scare him; in fact, they did not seem to be enough to convey the depth of his feelings. “I love you, too, Christy, I love you beyond what I ever conceived of the words meaning.” He took hold of the front of Christopher’s shirt, pulling him closer, holding him tight. He kissed the tear that had run from one brilliant blue eye before burying his head in the strong neck. “I will get you out of this, I swear. I will petition and disturb the Queen until she releases you if only to rid herself of me.”

Christopher pulled back, smiling at Tobias through his tears. “Do not get yourself into trouble on my account, my Lord. You must be free to visit me again.” He took a deep breath, and his next words quivered. “Do not forget me.”

Tobias lovingly touched the tear-streaked face, as his own eyes watered. “I would never. Do you understand? I will write to you, I will visit when I can. I will send money, clothing, paper and ink, whatever you need. I have brought a horse for Ronald - he is to use it to deliver letters between us. I will not leave our communication to chance.”

“You have always been a good friend, Tobias.” A small grin appeared at the corner of Christopher’s mouth, and a glint of the devil sparked in his eye. He leaned in to whisper, “I cannot wait to see how good you are as lover.”

Tobias felt a blush flow over his face. “I have heard your words of lust and seduction many times, directed at others. I think it will take time for me to get used to them spoken to me.”

A knock on the door set both men to clasp each other’s hands; they did not bother to part as Christopher called “Enter.”

Ronald began to step into the room, but recognizing the intimate circumstance, remained in the hall. “Your horse is ready m’lord. Sir Edmund will be here to remove you himself if you do not leave now.”

“Bastard,” Christopher muttered. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed each belonging to his love. “Be careful, and God speed your journey. I pray we are not forced to wait so long to see each other again.”

Tobias returned the kisses to Christopher’s hands. “Even if such a wait comes to pass, remember, you will always be first in my thoughts when I wake, and last when I fall into slumber, hopefully to dream of you.”

Tobias slowly retreated backwards, holding tight to Christopher’s hands until forced to let go. The two men stood looking at each other, arms outstretched, just out of reach of the other, until Ronald whispered urgently from his spot in the doorway. “Sir Edmund is coming. Please hurry!”

Tobias could not move, could not leave, until Christopher turned his back. “Go!” was his choked command.

Tobias left.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Toby~

You have only just left me, yet I must quickly put into words all I did not have time to tell you during your visit.

You must first know, seeing you did more good for me than any other thing could.  
Every word, every touch, every look is played again and again in my mind until I think it is the actual you I see, sitting in the shadows of my room, casting the look of affection and exasperation you so often wear when you are near me. And so I will scratch out this letter in the weak candlelight, as sleep will not come, hoping to bring some peace to my haunted brain.

I must tell you, Tobias, I was taken aback ~ and pleased beyond measure ~ that your attitude of our recent change in relationship so matched mine own. I thought perhaps with the distance of time you would come to realize you were mistaken when you returned my kiss that day in court. But your affections in my arms today silenced my doubts and brought me great relief.

There was so much I wanted to say to you earlier, so many words of encouragement and reassurances to you, but held back in the brevity of our time together.

I know you are scared of many things. You must reconcile your love for me against your marriage ~ and I know you fear for your soul. I cannot tell you to disregard these feelings ~ only ask that you look to your heart and follow that path where it leads.

As some measure of comfort I repeat the same as I told you the day you discovered my fancy included men as well as women ~ I will wait until I meet the Lord Himself, and if He sees fit to punish me, I will accept. I will not accept the word of Man over Our Lord, and I will not worry myself with it all. I hope that you may some day feel the same.

Did you know the day you came upon my secret was also the same in which I realized my changed feelings for you? As I look back, and I have many times since then, I know my affections for you had been changing from friend to lover for many months, perhaps years. I only put name to them on that beautiful afternoon.

Do you remember? It was a golden time, was it not, Tobias, traveling the banks of the Thames with Ryan and Cyril. So long ago, yet if I close my eyes, I can see you on the rocks of that pond in the forest outside London. You were beautiful, my Toby, standing in the setting sun, the light striking the beads of water on your naked body, causing you to shine and glow and forever take residence in my heart.

Do you remember how I refused your call to join you? I had to turn away, to leave our merry group on some false pretense, otherwise sure to betray the sudden aching in my heart and head and body.

I wonder what you would have thought, had you known it was you I was thinking of at the moment later that night, when you caught me with the stable boy in the small village we found? I was trying to forget the desire in my heart for you in the arms of one who was willing to give in to the demands of my body.

I spent the night in sleepless terror, again and again seeing the look upon your face before you fled. And then, instead of losing you as I had feared, my love for you was made sure the next morning, when you came to me and told me I was always to call you friend.

Ever after I was forced to play at the part of that friend, a role up until that day I had lived truly and with joy of heart. Did you ever know, did you ever suspect, the change in my feelings for you? Were you ever aware of the longing in glances, or the opportunities I took to be close to you, to touch you?

And though I was there to help, and yes, even persuade you, with your marriage plans, my heart was cleaved in two as I watched you take your vows. I knew, at that time, that I could never have you in the way my heart dictated I must. I kept true to that restraint for many years, until the celebration at the castle, until I could no longer keep quiet, until I knew I must confess or lose my mind.

Could you sense my fear as I finally gave voice to my feelings? I had sensed that somehow your feelings for me had shifted, perhaps even in a way that you could not be aware of. Yet, if you had refused me, repudiated me, all could have been lost ~ your friendship, your companionship, the love you have born me since boyhood. My relief and jubilation in your acceptance and response were beyond measure.

And now, it comes to naught, as we are separated thusly.

I wish I could give to you want it is you so want, my confession to the Queen. But even if assured that you would leave all and travel at notice to be by my side, I still could not. I must maintain my honor, and you must honor me for that.

I see the sun shall soon be rising, as the sky over the top of The Tower walls begin to lighten.

I shall close now, Toby, and hope this letter finds you soon.

Do not despair for me, Love, and do not bring yourself too much to the attention of Our Queen. Though I can think of nothing more that would please my selfish heart than to have you as companion, I would not wish it for anything. Do not risk Her ire.

I wait most impatiently the mark of your hand to paper ~ nothing more but the sight of you yourself will give me peace. Please include word of my Father and my gratitude is yours for delivering my letter.

My Heart is Yours.  
Always ~ Christy

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Tobias resisted the urge to whip his horse faster; it would do no good to ruin the animal and force himself to continue the rest of his journey on foot. Instead, he tried turning his thoughts from his urgency to reach Warwick Castle and recalled the last time he had been there.

Warwick had no Duke at the present, being watched over by a warden, but many years before Christopher had been a guest of the son of the Duke of Warwick. In turn, he had invited Tobias and the O’Reily brothers, Ryan and Cyril, to join him. The four were best of friends, and spent much time together. They enjoyed the hospitality of their host for most of the week, days spent hunting and fishing, jousting and gaming, and of course, courting the young women present at the manor.

The celebration was in honor of the news that Christopher would soon be made a knight, an honor that made young Tobias feel all at once proud for his friend, and jealous, and sorrowful, knowing that he would more than likely be called to defend the honor of Queen and country at some point.

His thoughts continued backward, to the time they had met, young boys sent to study at the home of one of the more learned scholars in London. It was rare that a boy not of titled descent was permitted to study at the small school founded by Paul Demer, but Christopher was considered an exception.

Tobias remembered being entranced by the boy, his wide smile and self-confidence making him a target for the attention and affection of the students, and teachers as well. But as the following months would show, it was Tobias’ attention and affection that the young Keller most desired, and the two soon were the best of friends.

This was where they had met the O’Reily brothers, grandsons of a nobleman of Ireland, sent to London to obtain a good education. Their father, Seamus, had squandered his inheritance and lost his lands in the pursuit of drink and whores, but their dead mother’s father wanted more for his grandsons, and while he would not give them money he would see them set apart from commoners by giving them an education.

Cyril was athletic, but studious as well, and he and Tobias spent many hours studying together. Christopher and Ryan were both as intelligent as any, but they were drawn to the outdoors, and to games of card and chance. Yet even though it seemed Christopher had more in common with the scheming elder O’Reily, it was always Tobias he looked for at the end of the day, to be with the last hour before bed, sharing the events of the day or walking to the nearest pub to beg for ale from a sympathetic patron, willing to help the underage boys.

Even after school, when each had gone their separate ways, living very separate lives, they stayed the best of friends, visiting each other when they could, or meeting at court.

Tobias smiled a bit sadly, wondering how that popular, talented boy had come to be prisoner of a queen that had only months before regarded him as one of her favorites.

When the sun was high overhead, he approached the castle walls. He stopped a moment, taking in the glorious day, the leaves of the trees only now beginning to yellow in the warm autumn air. If only he was here to collect his friend, to take him away. In the time since Christopher had declared his love to Tobias, they’d had only a few days at Court, and then the visit at the Tower. Tobias had spent hours in his lonely bed, unable to sleep as he thought of how his relationship with Christopher had changed, and how the chance to explore those changes had been taken from them.

He urged the horse forward through the gate and dismounted, waiting impatiently for several minutes before a stable boy arrived.

“I wish to see the steward of this place,” Tobias commanded.

“Aye, Lord, I will fetch him for you. Please wait here.”

Tobias thought it rude and impertinent that he was not made comfortable for his wait. Stepping through a doorway that led to the inner courtyard, he surveyed the wing of the castle that housed the guests – Christopher would be there. His anticipation at seeing his friend made him decide to forego seeing the steward first – the man was obviously not strict about protocol – and instead make his way through the halls of the castle himself, looking for Keller.

But even though the castle would be holding only the smallest of households in the absence of a Duke of Warwick, he noticed there were two guards walking the top of the tall wall to his right. He did not believe he was in any physical danger, but he must play all actions safely ‘less he jeopardize his chance to see Christopher.

So he took a spot in the shade next to the front gate where he would be visible to anyone come looking for him. As he waited, he thought back upon the frantic visit from Christopher’s boy Ronald that had brought him here today.

 

He was at his desk, composing a letter to a friend of his who lived in Lincoln, near London. He had received and answered only two letters from Christopher and then none. It was weeks before Beecher learned why – London had been shut off, the fear of plague sending the Queen and her court on a northern pilgrimage.

The letter was plea to his friend for information: had the plague indeed brooked the city walls? Did he know if the prisoners of the castle had been taken or left behind. If the latter, and the disease was indeed upon the city, could he find out if any prisoners had been struck?

Of a sudden, John, his houseman, came running into his library. “Master, there is a rider in the yard. He says he must speak with you!”

Tobias ran behind his man, shocked and relieved, and then scared, to see Ronald on the ground next to a wheezing, foaming horse. The young man had obviously ridden hard to be here, but why? Tobias dropped to his knees, taking hold of his shirt, pulling him close.

“What is it? Is he ill? Is it the plague?”

Ronald shook his head, trying to speak though he could hardly breath.

Tobias motioned to the stable hands that had appeared. “Take him to the kitchen boy’s room.” To John he instructed, “Take water, ale, something for him to eat. Clean him up and make him comfortable – I will be along shortly.”

Tobias made his way to his room. Going to a secret panel inside his closet, he filled a small bag with gold coins and then went to talk to Ronald.

In the small room behind the kitchen, Ronald was sitting up in the bed, the food and water having made much of a difference. Tobias dismissed his servants and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What is it? Why have you journeyed so hard to get here?”

Ronald expression was hard to read by the dim light of the small lamp on the bedside table, but Tobias could see the sorrow and regret in the boy’s wide eyes. “I am sorry, my lord, so sorry.” He took a deep breath and continued. “When the Queen left on progress, she took us with her.”

Tobias closed his eyes in relief. The Queen’s affections for Keller were still strong if she would worry enough to take a prisoner on her escape from the city. But the relief was not long-lived as Ronald continued.

“All was well until we reached Warwickshire. There, she summoned Sir Keller to her tent. We heard them arguing and then she summoned a guard. In only a matter of moments, my master was being prepared to leave. They were taking him to Warwick castle to wait on the Queen’s command. I asked if I might join him and was told no.”

Here he paused and his breathed shuddered in his sorrow. “Sir Christopher entrusted me to deliver this news to you. I told him – I promised him I would do it immediately. I told him I would send you to him.” At this the young man bowed his head, twisting the blanket in his hands.

“What is it, boy? You have done as he asked, and quickly, by the appearance. Why do you fret?” And even as he spoke the words, Tobias realized what was amiss - the Queen had started her progress weeks ago. It would not take long, even at the slow pace the court would be forced to travel, to reach Warwickshire.

“How long ago was this? How long has he been there?”

“It has been seven weeks since I last saw him. The Queen forced me to remain with her until we reached York. As soon as she released me from her company, I rode here.” Ronald’s distress bowed him over. “He will wonder what has happened. Why I did not carry out my promise?” Tears formed in the young man’s eyes, and Tobias realized Ronald’s feeling for Christopher were more than loyal servant to master. It was not surprising as the knight would seem to bring about admiration and even devotion in others as easily as he drew breath. He wondered, then, if Ronald welcomed Keller’s physical attention to him, instead of simply tolerating it. He ignored the bright flair of jealousy that this thought brought to him.

“He will understand, he knows the fickle way of…” he paused, realizing he should not speak ill of the Queen to this servant boy. “He knows that our plans are often changed on the whim of others.”

Ronald looked somewhat appeased and allowed himself to be laid down. Tobias pulled the blanket over him and left him to rest.

Outside the room, John was waiting. Tobias pulled the pouch of money from his vest and poured a few coins into this hand. Handing them to his loyal servant, he instructed, “I will have a letter written shortly. I want it delivered to Queen Elizabeth as soon as it is possible. She is in York, perhaps on her way home, so queries should be made along the road. Send someone you trust completely. Give him two horses – this money should pay for lodging and food on the way. And have a horse waiting for me on the morrow, I will be leaving as soon as it is light.”

John took the money and nodded his understanding. “And the boy?” he inquired.

“He is to remain here. When he is recovered, give him work to do to earn his keep. I will talk to him before I go. Send Stephen to me early to pack my bag.”

Ronald did not stay easily. He begged to be taken to Keller. Tobias refused him, not knowing what situation he would find Keller in when he arrived at the castle. And a small part of him could not deny that he did not want the boy there, vying for Christopher’s attention.

The talk with Genevieve went much easier. She had taken to bed early and Tobias stood at the doorway to her room, telling her of his plans to go to Keller and see if there was anything he could do to help him. She only bade him be careful and send word when he could. Tobias paused as he was leaving, thinking he should at least give her a kiss farewell. But Genevieve made that decision for him when she asked him to send in her lady and then rolled over to her side, turning her back on him.

Beecher’s thoughts were interrupted as a young boy came from the other end of the courtyard. He was carrying a bucket in one hand and a soft-looking bundle in the other. Tobias watched, unseen in the shadows, as the boy passed the doorways along the living quarters. Tobias felt ill as the boy stopped at none of these, but instead made his way to the small doorway set further down the keep... the entrance to the dungeon.

He took a moment, his thoughts in a muddle. The Queen was angry at Christopher, but to have him imprisoned thusly? Perhaps the argument between the two had been more heated than Ronald suspected. Would Christy have said something to anger her even more than a refusal of confession?

Resisting the urge to look toward the guard tower, he made his way to the dungeon door with the air of someone who had all rights to be there. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him; he took a moment to adjust to the dim light and then began his descent down the long, narrow flight of steps just inside the door.

At the bottom of the many small steps the room opened to the right. A shallow alcove was carved into the left side of the room, the only window set high in the wall there, the room’s only furniture, a table and chair, set beneath. The bucket and bundle were on the table.

Across from Tobias was a crude doorway, which he knew must lead to the prison cells.

He stood where he was, listening to the sounds beyond the doorway. Low voices, too muffled to make words of the sounds, but a bout of coughing made him start; he was sure that was Christopher. A moment later he heard another sound that sickened him – chains falling to the floor.

Tobias’ impulse was to go immediately to Christopher’s side, but something held him back and he moved to the bottom step, hiding himself behind wall and shadow.

He watched as the boy he’d seen in the courtyard came through the doorway first, turning to lend a helping hand to Christopher. When fully in the room, the light from the lone, high-set window cast it’s faint illumination on the prisoner, and the sight caused Tobias clasp his hand to mouth, holding in the cry of dismay that had risen unbidden.

Christopher was wearing similar clothing as when last seen – simple linen trousers and a plain white shirt. At least Tobias deduced it had been white at one time; it was now a filthy gray and stained with sweat, evidence that even the cool earthen walls could not keep the heat at bay. His face, always before clean-shaven, now had a heavy growth of beard, and his hair was long and disheveled, and Tobias thought he could see new streaks of gray in the filthy locks.

Tobias dug his fingers into the wall as he watched the boy lead Christopher across the small space toward the table. Christopher’s hands were free, but his ankles were chained closely together, giving him just enough leeway to step over the crude sewage trough carved into the floor, leading from the cells to a rusted drainage grate.

He watched as the boy settled Christopher on the chair and wet a cloth before wiping it over the prisoner’s brow.

He did not know why he stood still, watching. He felt almost an intruder, spying on an intimate moment between two people.

The boy, his bright yellow hair pulled back and tied with a string, was most attentive and gentle as he took care of the prisoner. He held a skin of water or wine for Christopher to drink, and then continued his ministrations, letting water run over the cuffs on Christopher’s ankles before gently wiping around them. When this was done, the boy waited patiently while Christopher ate the bread the boy pulled from his pocket.

This all went on in near silence, though Keller managed several looks of gratitude.

When Christopher was done eating, the boy spoke. “Do you feel up to it today?”

Keller stood, leaning heavily on the young shoulders. “Of course.”

The boy dragged the chair to the wall, under the window. With his help, Christopher stepped up onto the chair, his face coming even with the bottom of the windowsill. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes; the sun was not shining directly in, but Tobias could see he was reveling in the warmth and soft light.

The sight tore at his heart.

“Merciful God, deliver us.” Tobias did not mean to speak aloud, but he did. Christopher turned sharply at the sound, causing the chair to shift. Tobias broke from the shadows and ran to help the servant bring him safely down.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, backing away as Christopher and Tobias clutched each other. “You should not be here! Sir Keller is to receive no visitors!” He was ignored as the two men knew of nothing else but each other.

“You came.” Christopher’s eyes swam with tears, and his words were filled with such relief and the dark head coming to rest on his shoulder so heavy that Tobias felt his heart break before being moved to rage.

“What goes on here?” He shouted at the boy, watching confused and wide-eyed. “From all accounts, Sir Keller was to be kept here at the Queen’s pleasure, not contained and tortured as a lowly criminal!”

He settled Christopher on the chair and ran his fingers through the shaggy, dark hair, holding his greasy hand out to the boy, face wrinkled in disgust. “When was the last time he bathed? God in Heaven can smell him! And what is this?” Tobias threw the bucket of blood and pus tinged water to the floor. “Where are the clean bandages? Are there no healing herbs to found in this countryside?”

“Toby.”

Tobias realized that Christopher had been saying his given name, but it was only when he used the beloved nickname that Tobias came to hear him. He turned and took the hand that was held out to him.

“Go quietly, this boy is not the enemy.”

Tobias knelt in front of his friend, searching his face for signs of his true condition. “Are you well, considering?”

“I am.” Christopher leaned forward to clutch tight to Tobias’ arm. “I would not mind a few moments in the sun, if you can so arrange it.”

“I will.” Nothing short of death would prevent him from removing Christopher from this Hell.

Standing, he turned back to the boy, frozen in his astonishment and fear. “Your name?”

“I…I am Peter, Sir.”

“Peter, I am Lord Beecher, Viscount of Cheltenham.”

Peter bowed his head. “M’lord.”

“You have a key for these shackles?” Beecher gestured toward chains about Keller’s feet.

“Aye.” Peter handed the metal ring with the solitary key upon to Beecher.

“How long has this been on? Is it never removed?” Tobias asked as he knelt at Christopher’s feet and worked the key into the lock, trying hard to not be distracted by the filth coating the knight.

“A few times only. These,” Christopher motioned his hands, “are taken off with more regularity.”

“I can smell the infection,” Beecher’s nose wrinkled in disgust as he gently opened and removed the metal cuff from each ankle.

Keller remained quiet, but Tobias could feel the tightening of his body and saw the way the man’s fists clenched at his sides. And no wonder; there were similar rings of worn skin and running infection on each leg.

“Sainted Mary.” Beecher stood and removed his coat and his jerkin. “Peter, unlace this sleeve.” When the sleeve was removed from his shirt, Tobias quickly tore it into strips, having Peter wet them with the water in the skin. Kneeling again, he wiped tenderly at the damaged skin, stopping twice at the hiss of pain coming from his friend. When the ankles were cleaned and wrapped, Christopher was limp in the chair, his face gone even whiter, shiny with sweat.

Tobias took one of the remaining strips of cloth and wiped it softly across his lover’s face. “I will soon make this right,” he whispered in Christopher’s ear.

Christopher held weakly to Tobias’ arm. “I know you will.”

His tone of confidence spurred Tobias to action. He turned to the servant boy, taking him by the shoulders. “I will be staying here, several days, so I need a room made up, with fresh bedding and a fire laid. What is the staff here?”

“Small, Sir, but sufficient, kept suitable for the steward’s household.”

Tobias knew he should have talked to the steward as soon as he arrived, but all he could consider was Christopher. “Good. We need a good amount of water heated so that Sir Keller may bathe. We will need any medicines appropriate for Sir Keller’s wounds, along with a simple meal for him. Let the stable boy know I will be staying and have my horse tended to and my bag retrieved.”

The boy’s eyes were wide, but he nodded his head with enthusiasm. “I will have it done.”

“Good. And Peter, please make sure the castle steward knows I am here.”

“He already knows.” The familiar voice came from behind. “Have I missed your appointment as landlord to this estate, Beecher?”

Tobias looked over with a start at the man leaning indolently against the wall at the bottom step, silently occupying the same space as he had just moments earlier. The other man did not bow, nor show any other sign of respect, and Tobias did nothing to hide the shock and contempt he felt at seeing him.

“It would bode well for you to act in a manner deserving to your betters, Robson.” Tobias managed to refrain from smiling at Christopher’s words as he faced their long-time adversary.

“And it would bode well for you to remain silent in my presence, Prisoner.”

“You are steward to Warwick, Robson?”

James Robson pulled himself taller. “I am not, but was appointed by the steward to maintain it in his absence. And so you have no rights to be making commands to my household.”

“Why did you not tell me?” Tobias had turned to Christopher.

“It seemed we had enough to deal with at the moment.”

Robson glared at the two men before he flicked his wrist at young Peter. “Boy, leave us. And do nothing.”

Tobias squeezed the young man’s shoulder. “You will not take the words of this man over mine, do you understand? It would be a great disrespect to do so.”

The boy nodded and scurried up the stairs past Robson, ducking the cuff aimed at his head.

Robson folded his arms across his chest, mouth curled smugly. “You may be lord of your manor, Beecher, but is the title as satisfying to own when you have to pluck it from the midst of your wife’s skirts?”

Tobias gave him no satisfaction. “Who is the current steward of the castle, and where is he?”

“It is Shillinger.” The answer came from behind him, and he turned his head, his shock even greater, not believing what he had heard. “It is true.” Christopher was nodding. “I have not seen him yet, I understand he is on the continent for another two weeks at least. I am not looking forward to his return.”

Shillinger. Beecher could not think of a worse person to have to deal with. Robson could be trouble, but he was at most an annoyance... unless working together with Shillinger. Lord Vernon Shillinger, Count of Welfax, would have Christopher dead if it were in his power to do so. And so it seemed that he might get his opportunity. But if Christopher was right and they had several days, all that was of matter now was getting Christopher healed and strong…and word to the Queen.

“I told you to remain silent in my presence!” Robson moved toward Keller.

“Enough!” Beecher’s head was spinning at the idea of having to deal with not only Robson, but Shillinger as well. But Christopher’s health was his only concern at the moment. He stepped between the two men. “I will be bringing Sir Keller outside now. You will make sure the boy has followed my command and all is ready.”

Robeson’s face grew red and his body nearly shook in his lividity. “I will not! You will not come in here and order me about as a servant. Do as you like, but I will have no part of it.”

“I am your better, James, do not forget.”

“And I have been left to watch over Warwick, not to serve.” Robson set foot on the steps, speaking over his shoulder before going up. “We can take up any disagreement with Shillinger when he returns.” There was no mistaking by the sneer in his voice that he was confident in whom it was Shillinger would side with.

Beecher watched Robson ascend the steps until he was gone. Concerned, he turned back to Christopher. “There will be trouble with Shillinger.” He sighed heavily. “Could there be no one else in this kingdom to steward over this place? And what was Elizabeth thinking to leave you here with him?”

“He has her ear, Tobias.”

“And he wants your heart, Christopher.”

Shillinger had come to England from Germany as a young boy with his father, in the company of Anne of Cleves, fourth wife to the Queen’s father King Henry VIII. When Henry dissolved his marriage to Anne, she petitioned that Shillinger be provided for, and as such the younger Shillinger came to be Count of Welfax when his father died. There was not much money with the title, and only a small amount of property, but the title carried the weight of the Queen’s friendship behind him. He came to court when Elizabeth came to power and pleased the Queen, offering advice she found valuable and refraining from urging a husband on her, as so many of her sycophants were wont to do. And as Anne had always been a sweet and caring stepmother to her, it pleased her to help one of Anne’s kinsmen.

But Shillinger could be cruel when not under Elizabeth’s eye, and he watched out for his friends and family, sometimes to unpleasant ends to others…as Beecher and Keller knew well enough.

“Come, Toby, get me rid of this corner of Hell.”

Beecher looked toward the rough doorway leading to the cells. Though he promised himself he would remain silent on the subject, the thought of Keller kept here so many weeks lead him to suddenly plead with a passion. “Please, please, I will beg mercy for you, but please confess!”

Christopher’s sunken eyes flashed. “I am innocent!” A harsh rattle of coughing bent him over, sending Tobias for the skin of water. Holding it for Christopher to drink, Tobias declared hotly, “Your stubbornness will be your downfall!”

“You once told me it was my penchant for whores that would accomplish that deed.”

Beecher’s eyes flashed with their own passion. “You won’t be whoring much from here, will you? Look at you – will you continue this way much longer?”

“Have you come all this way to harp at me? Many men have lived many years imprisoned…justly or not.”

“And many of those were housed in much better surrounding than these. Or went insane.” He looked again toward the cells. “What accommodations have you? A dark niche carved in the wall? A bowl of watery soup to sustain you?”

Tobias made a move toward the doorway to the back rooms, but Christopher reached for his arm. “Do not look,” he said somberly.

A noise on the stair took Beecher’s attention away from the cells. Peter appeared momentarily, a crease of worry between his eyes.

“Speak.”

“I’m sorry, m’lord.” The boy took his rough, woolen cap from his head and twisted it between his hands. “But Miss Greta, the housekeeper, says you should be informed that the best rooms are occupied by Mr. Robson and his friends. It would take some time to ready another room deserving of you.” He looked down, twisting the cap he held. “The room Sir Keller was staying in is still available, but as it is in the servant’s wing, Greta said that would be a disgrace for a Viscount to sleep there.”

“Has is a working fireplace?”

“Aye, Sir.”

“And a window facing the sun,” Christopher added. “And it is a good size.”

“I take it that it is in the back of the palace, by the kitchens?”

Peter nodded.

“That will work nicely - get it arranged for us, Peter, and make it as comfortable as you can.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“How burns the fire?”

“It will be a blaze when you reach it, and the large kettle is already set upon it.”

“Good. Carry on, we will be there soon enough.”

“Tobias, why do you persist in keeping me here? Will you not get me from this hole?”

Peter easily scurried up the long set of stairs while Tobias took Christopher by the arms and gently pulled him to his feet. At the bottom step, both men looked up at the task ahead.

“Shall I call back the boy?” Tobias asked, concerned. “We can put you in a chair and carry you up.”

“We will go slowly. I want no one else but you right now.”

There was no room to walk side by side in the narrow space, so Christopher braced his hands on the cold, stone walls and Tobias kept close behind him, by turn holding him by the waist or pushing gently against his back.

Half way to the top, Tobias held gently to Christopher’s shirt. “Let us stop a moment.”

“Are you tiring?” Christopher asked with a grin over his shoulder.

“I believe you are.”

“I will be fine, let us continue.”

Beecher shook his head at the man’s pride and stubbornness, but continued on, securing his hold on Keller’s shirt.

They reached the top with Christopher trembling and coughing. Beecher moved carefully around him to grasp the heavy handle of the door. “Just a moment more, then we will rest. It is a beautiful day, most warm for the time of year.” Tobias pushed the door open, turning back in alarm as he heard Christopher gasp. Fearing the man was about fall down the stairs, he was relieved as he saw Christopher standing firmly, only shading his eyes with his hands.

“Here.” Tobias held Christopher’s arms and carefully guided him from the dungeon. He led him a short distance, until they were in the soft, overgrown grass. “Sit here.” He helped Christopher lower himself to the ground and took a spot next to him, both men leaning against the sun-warmed bricks of the castle wall.

They sat this way for a space of time, Christopher with his face turned upward, his eyes shaded. “Sweet God, that feels good.” He bent his head and removed his hands, and as he adjusted to the light, they talked.

“Are you well?” Christopher nodded. “How long have you been here? Your boy was not sure of the date.”

“Ronald! How is he? I was not sure how you came to know I was here. It was so long ago I sent him, I was afraid something had become of him.”

“He is well.” Beecher looked toward upward, taking in the guard atop the wall. Whereas before he had been leisurely walking his patrol, he was now stopped, facing the courtyard. Robson had obviously given him word to keep watch on them. The man couldn’t possibly believe they would try to escape, not with Christopher in his sickened condition; the guard’s attention was solely to intimidate.

He turned back to Christopher, whose eyes were now open, though narrowed. “He was not allowed to leave the Queen until the party reached York. He made his way to me as quickly as possible – he was half-dead when he arrived.”

“Poor boy,” Christopher whispered. “And now?”

“Now he is being cared for at my home.” Tobias refrained from commenting on his suspicion of the boy’s affection for Christopher – this was certainly not the time to become a jealous lover.

Christopher took Tobias’ hand. “You are my savior in ever matter, it appears.” He pressed the hand in his to his lips before releasing it. “We will talk more later. For now, let us go. I wonder how you can stand to be close to me without your eyes watering at my stench.”

Tobias got to his feet and pulled Christopher up likewise. “Being close to you makes nothing else matter.” He wiped his hand dramatically across his eyes. “Although, now that you say something…”

“Ah, how I have missed your humor.” Tobias was heartened to see the cracked lips of his friend twitch in a semblance of a smile.

Together, the men made their way carefully toward the other end of the yard. Christopher’s step was slow, but he was so strong, Tobias knew it would not take long for him to recover. Yet still his heart ached as he watched Christopher take in his surroundings. His face kept turning toward the overhead sun, and once he bent to pull a handful of the long grass from the unkept grounds, inhaling the dry, sweet scent of it.

Sir Christopher Keller had always been a man of the outdoors, strong and virile, traveling from town to castle to fair, earning his living on the bets laid against him in the tilting runs or fencing duels. He was proficient on a horse, winning races and obstacle courses easily. He was a favorite at court, his charming smile and beguiling manner, ease at dancing and ability to spin a captivating tale, along with his hunting and gaming skills, made him popular with both men and women.

He was welcome in the homes of Lords, Mayors, and merchants equally. He had no airs about him; Tobias recalled him dining with the Queen one night, then out in the stables the next, sharing a basket of tarts he had stolen from the kitchen with the grooms and servants bedding there.

He was also a knight in the truest sense, on call at the Queen’s command. Beecher had heard stories of his ruthlessness and fearlessness on the battleground, and he himself had seen examples of it. His manner was easy-going, but if the situation dictated, he was quick to show the darker side of his nature.

“What are you thinking?” Christopher asked, tickling Tobias’ ear with the blades of grass.

Tobias shied away, smiling. “I was thinking how you are made for the outdoors, for parties and laughter and the like.” He looked back over his shoulder, toward the small door set low in the castle wall. “To lock you away in a place like that is a travesty. It is like caging a wild bird. Why were you there, if you first had a room?”

Christopher shrugged. “Robson. He thought I was attempting to escape.”

Tobias’ thoughts turned inward once more. The family of Robson at one time had been a small nobility, with homes and lands enough to support them in a comfortable, if not affluent, state. That was until James’ grandfather lost his beloved wife and tried to forget her in women and drink and dice. The monies soon were spent, and then the lands and homes were sold to pay for the debauched lifestyle and gambling debts. The young Queen Elizabeth finally bought the family title from James’ father, paying him for it on condition that the money go to pay the debt he owed to two of the Queen’s knights. One of these was Sir William Keller, Christopher’s father.

And so even though the men had moved in the same circle as young men – they were schooled together – paid for by a concerned family member - and served their time as Pages of the Queen’s castle – Robson always held resentment toward Keller. He saw his own father brought low, while Christopher’s father thrived and found favor with those of name and title.

William Keller’s home was a popular stopping place for those passing in the area, as his collection of the finest wines and his ability to cultivate the most talented musicians and poets to entertain were well known. He himself had many tales to tell of his travels to foreign lands as a young man, before he retired from the Queen’s service. In this atmosphere, Christopher had become known in royal circles even before his own talents secured his place there.

James burned with envy as he watched Keller and his father prosper, while his own family continued a downward spiral. And because Tobias and Christopher were so close, Robson’s animosity spilled over onto Beecher, brought to a boiling point when Tobias married Genevieve Cranmer, a cousin to the former aid to King Henry. The marriage brought even more riches and a title to Tobias, a fact which the jealous Robson could never get over, as he had romanced the lovely young woman at one point.

And when the tragedy that two years ago caused Shillinger come to hate Keller even more than Robson did, the younger man attached himself to the elder, the two of them biding their time for revenge. And now, it seemed the time had come.

They had reached the end of the yard and were passing through the gateway of the wall that led to the back of the castle where there were storerooms and access to the kitchens. In the coolness of the short passageway, Christopher took Tobias’ arm and stopped him.

“Let us pause here a moment before facing the household.”

From their resting place the men could hear the activity in the yard a short distance off. A matronly voice was shouting directions, and there was the sound of wood being chopped.

“Is there something wrong?” Tobias queried, searching his friend’s face for any sign of distress.

“Not with me. You though, need a moment, I believe.”

Tobias raised a brow.

“Leave your anger toward Robson here. These people,” Christopher motioned in the direction of the voices, “were only good to me, and did all they could.”

“Of course they did.” Tobias smiled as he stroked Christopher’s cheek. “Who does not love you?”

Christopher took the hand on his cheek. “As long as you do, that is all that matters.”

In the yard they found Peter and another, younger boy feeding the flames of the already blazing fire. A large pot hung suspended over it, the legs of the metal support buried in the earth, a large circle of ash beneath the pot, evidence of how long it had stood in service to the inhabitants of the castle. To the side, under the shade of a small stand of trees, was a table holding the items necessary for a bath. Beyond the trees a large vegetable garden was visible, still bountiful with its fruit due to the warmth of the season; beyond this was the sight of many chickens milling about their yard.

As they neared the area, a short, buxomy woman with gray hair flying loose from the long braid down her back came in a hurry from one of the outbuildings, presumably a kitchen, as she carried a bowl of apples and what appeared to be a honey comb. She was almost upon the two men before she looked up from her rapid step and stopped short.

"My lord," she gasped, startled and out of breath. She bent low in the best curtsey she could manage with her hands full. From the corner of her mouth she hissed loudly, "Look sharp, fools, 'tis Sir Keller and the Viscount."

The two boys bent from the waist but were quickly sent back to their work by a wave of Beecher's hand.

"Who are you, madam?" Beecher asked.

"I am Greta, head housekeeper and cook here, m'lord." Though she kept a reverently bowed head, her voice carried her pride and Tobias was sure she was well respected.

"Then it is you I will be coming to for our needs while we are here, correct, Greta?" Beecher nodded to the bowls in her hand. "Carry on, Lady."

Greta set the food on the table. "I will do my best to see to your needs, m'lord, but..."

"But what? If it is Robson you worry about, do not. My requests will be few, nothing he would deny."

"He would deny you breath, if it were possible, my friend." Christopher whispered this into Tobias' ear, and then in a normal voice, "Now, if all is ready, I feel weak and would be grateful for a place to sit, if it is possible."

Greta looked around before grabbing the younger boy by his ear. "Fool! You brought no bench for the gentlemen. Get one!" She pushed the boy to a stumbling run.

While they waited, Christopher began undressing. When he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, Tobias pulled a small knife from his waist and easily slit the shirt open and pulled it from his friend's body. "I much admired that shirt," Christopher frowned as Tobias threw it on the fire.

"So did the vermin living on it."

The boy returned, holding one end of a long bench; the other was held by a girl who looked so much like Peter it was only her clothes and long hair that kept them from being the same.

"In the sun, please."

The bench was set between the fire and the table and Tobias lowered Christopher onto it. He kept his face impassive, but in truth he was distressed by the shaking he felt in Christopher's legs, and the shrunken appearance of the muscles in his arms and chest. He was comforted by the knowledge that he knew Christopher would regain his strength quickly, if given the chance to do so, and Tobias would do all he could to give him that chance.

"Sir, if you please, I'll take care of him now."

Beecher realized he was hovering over Christopher, watching too closely, his concern more than that of friend.

As he watched Greta take charge, removing the rest of Christopher’s clothes and using a scrap of cotton sacking to begin rubbing him down, Tobias watched with new eyes. He’d often seen his friend naked – as young men, traveling or rooming together in school or at court it was inevitable and common. Privacy was rare, and indeed, even suspect at times. But now, it was different. His eyes surreptitiously moved over Christopher’s body, seeing the familiar lines of hair and curve of flesh in a way that made his body tingle.

He sought ought each scar as Christopher stood and let Greta pour buckets of water over him, supported on each side by the brother and sister, the girl attending her job seriously, but with a blush upon her cheeks. Tobias knew these scars, and had even attended to many of them. His eye paused upon the faint, raised line on the outside of Christopher’s left thigh. Settling against the trunk of one of the trees, he thought back to the night he had first seen it.

Tobias woke and tensed, listening, trying to determine what it was that had woken him. Turning in the warm cocoon of his bed, he pushed the blankets down. There, in the light of the bright moon shining through his window, was the figure of a man. It was not his father, not nearly tall nor imposing enough for that man. Neither could it be John, his personal servant.

Tobias become startled when the figure began pulling his clothes quickly yet clumsily from his body. “Beecher, move over, I am near frozen!”

Tobias sat up. “Christopher! What are you doing here? Is the fighting done?”

“Freezing to death, and yes!”

Tobias slid over and pushed the blankets down further, making room for Christopher, clad only in his long chausses. As Christopher took his place in the bed, Tobias instinctively pulled away from the waves of cold coming off his friend’s body.

“God’s bones, but you are cold!”

Christopher lay on his side, back to Tobias and pulled the blankets up to his ears. “I know that, I’ve been walking two days in this miserable weather. Help warm me.”

Lying back down, Tobias took a deep breath and pressed himself against his friend’s back, sliding one arm beneath his neck and wrapping the other around his arm and chest. The thin linen bedclothes he wore were not much help in protecting him from the chill, and soon a large shiver wracked his own body.

Christopher pushed back against him and sighed gratefully. “Thank you, Toby.”

“Why were you walking? Was your horse felled in battle?”

Tobias took the small movement from the other as a nod. “I am so sorry. How did it happen?” He raised his head, his mouth at Christopher’s ear. “Were you scared? How long did it last? Was there much blood? Were you victorious? Did you kill anyone?”

“Toby, Toby, please.” The affection in Christopher’s voice could not hide the weariness. “ I am so tired, can we talk on the morrow?”

“Of course, I should have thought.” He settled back, keeping as much warming contact with Christopher as he could. He would not be able to sleep, he knew. There was too much to think of, with his best friend home from his first battle. It was a small skirmish by all accounts from travelers bringing news; simply a group of Barons from the Scottish border trying to enlarge their lands with English property. But it was Christopher’s first battle, after being knighted only months before by their sovereign Queen Elizabeth.

That had been a wondrous day, spent marveling at the magnificence of Hampton Court and the splendor of all it encompassed. His memories were scattered when Christopher began shivering again, a steady shake, accompanied by the chattering of his teeth.

“Christy, are you okay?”

“Aye, it is just my body warming up. It will pass when I am warmed enough.” Christopher’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. “It seems I cannot remember the last time I was not cold.”

Tobias sat up and pulled his long nightshirt over his head. Lying back down he pressed warm skin to cold. “Mayhap this will quicken the process.”

“Mmmm, I missed you, friend.”

“And I you, Christy. Sleep now, and I’ll have Mother see to it that you have all your favorites to break the fast in the morning.”

Tobias held Christopher until his shaking had stopped and the slow rise and fall of his body comforted Tobias toward his own slumber.

He woke the next morning, the moonlight gone, leaving the room in shadow as the weak winter sunlight was not yet on this side of the mansion.

The position of both young men had changed, with Tobias now on his other side and Christopher on his back. As Tobias shifted to turn, his hand came down on something wet on the bed. Sitting up, he brought his hand to his face and saw that it was blood. Flinging the blankets back he looked for the source of it. Even in the darkness, Tobias could see a bloom of dark on Christopher’s white leggings, soaking the outside of his left thigh.

“Christopher! Christopher!” Tobias knelt on the bed and reached to shake his friend by the shoulders. He pulled back, momentarily shocked by the heat Christopher was now giving off.

Toby crawled off the bed and ran to the door. “John, come here now!” he shouted into the quiet hallway.

Back at the bed, Tobias lit the lamp on the table closest to Christopher. He looked at the returned soldier, his face red and dry and hot, and thankfully breathing, though shallowly. Toby found the small knife he kept on his dressing table and carefully slit through the cloth Christopher’s pants where the redness bloomed. There was a rough strip of cloth beneath and under that, a hole, from which the blood was sluggishly flowing.

“What is it, Sir?”

John was there, pulling on his shoes as he came sleepily into the room..

“Go for my mother, tell her Sir Keller is here, hurt. We need water, and the fire built, and medicine and cloths.” Tobias was holding the corner of a blanket against Christopher’s leg with one hand and gently shaking his shoulder with the other, trying to waken him.

“Yes, Sir, but may I say…”

“What is it?” Tobias turned, angered the boy had not yet gone.

“Before the Lady arrives, perhaps you should dress.” With a quick bow, John ran from the room.

Cursing anything that kept him from tending to his friend, Tobias dressed as quickly as he could, pulling on the nightshirt he found at the bottom of the bed.

Clambering back onto the bed he continued applying pressure. “Christy, Christy, wake up,” his words an urgent plea against Christopher’s ear.

“M’lord, we are done here.”

“Hmm?” Beecher turned to find servants and Keller, he with a tired but bemused expression on his face, all looking at him.

Miss Greta stood, arms akimbo, her apron soaked, a satisfied look upon her face. “He’s all cleaned up, now, Sir.” She shook her head in disgust. “I know it’s not for me to say, but ‘tis a crime he was locked away. That Robson is not a man to be in charge of others.” She suddenly looked wide-eyed between the two gentlemen, realizing she had spoken ill of her betters. She waved her apron at the youngsters around her. “Get this place cleaned up, and Peter, go build up the fires under the wash tubs. Mary, there’s washing to do, get to it!”

“Thank you,” Keller said, reassuringly. “I feel already a different man.”

Beecher nodded in agreement. “Will you leave the beard?” Though beards were the style of the day, both men preferred to be clean-shaven. Keller kept his hair shorn short, as well. He had no time for dealing with it. Tobias had his longer, enough that it began to curl against his collar.

“I think not, do you?” Keller rubbed his hand over the growth. “It can be quite prickly against the skin.” He winked and Beecher looked to see if the housekeeper had caught the suggestion. If she had, she was not showing it, waiting patiently for further instruction.

“Take it off, and cut my hair as well.”

Kneeling at Keller’s feet, Greta first treated and bandaged his wrists then ankles. Tobias stood at his shoulder and let him squeeze his hand through the pain while she worked on his ankles. Here she paused, looking at both men. “The sores on your legs look bad, m’lords. Perhaps we should send for someone from Warwickshire to look after them. Dr. Hastens has left, gone to live with his daughter in retirement, but I hear there has been someone to take his place.”

“What is that ointment you applied to his wounds?” Tobias asked.

“It is a common medicine, useful on simple scrapes and cuts.” The housekeeper got to her feet. “The sores on his legs look as though they need extra attention.”

“Let us see how I fare in coming days. For now I would be rid of this beard and long hair, and force the lice to look elsewhere for a home. A decent meal and bed will do me much good, I am sure.”

An hour later those words proved true. Christopher had managed a few bites of soup and a glass of ale before falling into the large bed, soft and smelling of fresh linen.

The room was a decent-sized one, not far from the kitchens, with a small window facing south as promised. Tobias was sure it was meant to house several servants at once when the castle was at full capacity. The boy Peter had done well in making it presentable for a lord and knight in the short time he had. In addition to the bed was a small table with three wooden chairs around it. A large, cushioned chair and ottoman sat in one corner, and two small tables were on each side of the bed. There was a dresser and a sideboard to complete the furnishings.

Tobias asked for a desk to be brought, as well as a chest in addition to the dresser for his belongings. He asked Greta to send his praises to the servants who had arranged the room.

“The boys filled the mattress with the freshest straw, and young Mary gathered sweet timothy grass to add to it as well,” Greta had informed them as she settled them in. She had also taken measurements to make a basic wardrobe for Keller, once Tobias had assured her he would pay for any material – and her time, of course – taken from the castle. For now he was dressed in one of Beecher’s nightshirts.

After she had gone, Tobias frowned at his friend. “I should write a letter to Elizabeth, letting her know of the condition I found you in.”

“And do you think she will care?”

Tobias ignored the question. “Is there anything more I can get you?”

Christopher’s eyes were drooping. “Let me lay here and watch you write your letter until I fall asleep. A cloud in Heaven would not feel better than this bed.”

Tobias felt the blush upon his cheeks, but he held the gaze of his best friend, now turned lover. “I was mad with worry, you know, wondering if you were still in London, perhaps victim of the plague. All roads were closed, I could not get to the Tower.”

“You are here now, as I knew you would be.” Christopher held out his hand and Tobias went to him, kneeling on the rug beside the bed and taking the offered hand in both of his. “Thoughts and dreams of you are what kept me going.” The knight’s sleepy eyes suddenly widened. “My father, what of him?”

“I delivered your letter on my way home from our last visit, and he was well.” Tobias smiled at the memory of the feisty, kind old man, such a mirror of the son. “And before I came here, I had one of my men deliver another letter, informing him of what I knew. I implored him to stay where he was, telling him I would send word again, which I must do soon.”

The elder Keller had much difficulty traveling; he had been breeching old age already when his son was born, and now the years had slowed him down measurably.

“Thank you.” Christopher leaned forward, wrapping his other arm around Tobias’ neck, bringing their faces close together. “You have always taken care of me.”

Tobias laughed softly. “Such as paying off a merchant for your ill-treatment of his daughter? Or talking a gentleman out of challenging you to a duel after you insulted his horse?”

Christopher laughed at the memory. “Do you remember the poor, old nag? I only suggested a knife to its throat would be a mercy.” Suddenly, Christopher’s laughter turned to coughing. He sat up, bent over while Tobias fetched a cup of water.

After he calmed down, Tobias stood over him, worry creasing his face.

“Do not look at me that way, you make me feel like the nag.”

“You always said I was the nag,” Tobias responded, trying to ban the worry from his eyes. He sat on the bed and held Christopher’s hand until he fell asleep.

Beecher had moved to the table, writing a letter to the Queen. He was desperate to sway her decision about Christopher’s confinement, and he went through much ink and paper until he felt he had expressed his argument successfully. When finally finished he closed the letter with wax and the seal he had brought with him.

Leaning back, he watched his Christy sleep, thinking he would soon join him. The long journey and the emotion at being reunited with his friend had left him weary and sleepy. His thoughts drifted to his earlier memories.

“What goes on, Son?” Madam Beecher sailed into the room, followed by John, carrying a basketful of medicines and also by Glory, the young woman who served as caregiver and his mother’s personal attendant.

Tobias felt a surge of relief at Glory’s presence. She had come to them with her mother as a little girl, displaced from their home country by war. Her mother died when Glory had just turned 13 and Madam Beecher had taken the girl under wing. Glory had far more knowledge of medicines and cures than most of the doctors in the area and she, along with Lady Beecher, spent much of their time tending to the ill of their village, and beyond.

“When did he arrive?” Madam Beecher inquired.

“In the night,” Tobias answered, moving reluctantly to stand aside. “He didn’t say he was hurt – he just wanted to get warm and sleep.”

Glory had climbed onto the bed, while Lady Beecher leaned over Christopher’s body to examine the injury.

“The cold must have helped slow the flow of blood. Perhaps he thought all was well.” Glory spent the next several minutes with her herbs and potions, cleaning and treating and finally wrapping the wound. “All that is left to do is watch him and try to get the fever to subside.”

The young Beecher stayed throughout the day by Keller’s side. He bathed his face with cool water and kept him covered, though the injured man tried time and again – in his delirium - to kick the furs and blankets from his heated body. Under instruction from Glory, he kept eye on the leg, making sure the bandage stayed tight, and held dippers of medicinal water to the parched lips.

His mother tried once to get him to leave. “It cannot be healthy for you, Tobias, to spend such time in this heated room, full of sickness. We have servants to tend him and Glory comes by on every hour.”

Though he was a good, obedient son, Tobias stood defiant, leaving no room for argument. “I will not leave until he is well.”

His mother, a wise and observant woman, could see any more conversation would be pointless.

Toward the evening, Tobias was jerked from sleep, a restless nap taken while curled up on the end of the bed.

He was at first relieved, seeing his friend sitting up, looking around. But as he crawled closer, he could see a wild, unfocused look in the blue eyes, and when he took the other man’s hand, it burned in his.

“Beecher, Beecher, is it you?” Christopher reached for him, grabbing his shoulders, staring hard at him; Tobias was not sure he was being seen.

“It is, it is I,” he reassured the fevered man. He was scared, wanting to call for help, but Keller’s next words made him hesitate.

“Toby, please, if I die –“

“What? You will not die! You have a fever, nothing more.”

“Listen to me!”

Christopher’s eyes burned hot and Tobias did his best to calm him. “I am listening, I am.” His hands cupped Christopher’s reddened cheeks and he sat on the edge of the bed.

Christopher held tight to Tobias’ wrists as he spoke. “If I die, I shall do so with an unforgiven sin. I do not want to burn in hell, Toby. I do not want to be separated from you and our friends and my father.”

“Nor will you. Just rest, please, Christy, you need to rest.” He gently pushed Christopher back onto the pillows and to make sure he stayed he climbed into bed with him, his arm over the sick man’s chest.

But though Christopher allowed himself to be comforted physically, his mind was still tormented. He turned his head until his forehead pressed against that of Tobias’.

“I did not want it...it was so cold and I was so scared...it was not...don’t hate me, please, don’t hate me. I am still your friend…it was so cold…”

Christopher fell asleep, muttering these words and Tobias held him until Glory came to check on her patient.

Christopher soon recovered, the scar on his leg a proud reminder of his first battle. He was rather taken with it and easily dropped his hose to show to anyone who expressed even the slightest interest in his battle exploits. His great sin was not mentioned for many years, not until after Tobias had learned the truth of his friend’s attraction to men.

Though Christopher did not remember the incident in which he was so distraught, he did confess that during the battle he had been afraid of dying, and being condemned to Hell for his sexual knowledge of men. And that, even though he had “taken his pleasure” with many before then, that battle was the first time had “lain down for another.”

Since then, his fear of Hell had diminished, trusting in God, not man, to decide his fate. “God will look to where my heart has been, not my cock,” he had once said, causing Tobias to drop to his knees in immediate prayer on his friend’s behalf.

“Toby.”

Beecher was roused from his doze. He lifted his head and rubbed at the kink in his neck.

“Toby,” Christopher was holding out his hand, “do you prefer a chair to this overstuffed bed?”

“Do I not seem comfortable?” Beecher stood and stretched, wincing at the noises this produced in his back.”

“If you fear my advances, you need not worry. I am still too weak to do much harm to your virtue.”

Tobias smiled, while feeling a slight roll in his belly. “It was my intention to join you sooner. I fell asleep while watching you.”

“Were you watching me?”

“I was. I was watching and thinking.”

“Of me? Come here.”

Tobias stripped off his shirt and climbed into the bed. “How are feeling? Do you need a drink?”

“No, you here with me is all I need.”

“How many times have you said that to one sharing your bed?”

“I have said it on occasion to try and entice someone into my bed. But you are already here, so you know the sentiment is true.” Christopher touched Tobias’ face. “It is true. When I saw you yesterday I knew I could bear anything more that was to happen – never have I been so glad to lay eyes upon a person.”

“And I you, though the state you were in distressed me to my heart.” Tobias took the hand from his cheek and kissed the palm. “I will see this set right, Christy. Now, turn to your side and let me hold you – I wish to be as close as possible.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

A knocking on the door woke both men the next morning. After Peter and Percy had tended to the men the evening before, bringing wine and a light supper, and stirring the coals in the fireplace, both men had slept deeply through the night.

“Enter,” Beecher called, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

The young girl Mary came into the room, burdened with a bucket of water in each hand and towels tucked beneath her arm. She set the buckets down and curtsied. “Good morning, m’lords, I’ve water for washing and drinking.”

“Here, here,” Tobias went to her, taking the buckets and setting them on the sideboard. “Was there no one other than a slight girl to bring these?”

The girl set the towels on the table and nodded her head. “I wished to do the task, m’lord.” She looked at Christopher, now sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. “I hope you are doing well, sir.”

“I am, m’lady,” Christopher smiled and the girl blushed.

“Mistress Greta will be by soon to attend to your wounds, sir. In the meantime, I will be back with your morning meal.”

As the girl made her leave, Tobias helped Christopher to his feet and to the table, where they freshened themselves with water in one bucket and drank deeply from the other.

“I believe that girl is smitten with you, Christy,” Tobias smiled.

“Poor girl,” Christopher said, making his way back to the bed. “She blames herself for my incarceration.”

“How so?” Tobias had wondered at this, supposing it had been a whim of Robson’s to display his authority over Keller.

“When I arrived I was housed in a room not far from here, confined there but for a walk a day that I was allowed, accompanied always by a guard, of course, and always inside the castle walls.”

“At least he allowed that.”

“On occasion we would walk the parapet, so I might look out over the countryside. While up there, I noticed bushes of wild roses growing just outside the west wall. And so on one of the walks about the grounds, I told the guard I was going to pick some for the girl Mary, as she had been so attentive to me in my stay.”

“Yes, I am quite sure she was,” Tobias muttered.

“What is that?” Christopher settled back onto the bed, grinning at his love.

Tobias shook his head. “Go on with your story.”

“I am sure you can surmise how it ends. The guard let me go without accompanying me, standing just inside the outer wall while I gathered a half dozen of the flowers. Robson saw me present them to her, questioned the guard on how I came to have them, and then banished me to the dungeon, claiming my stepping outside these walls brooked the grounds of my interment. He viewed the action as an attempt at escape.”

Chris rubbed at the bandage on his ankle and Tobias was at his side in an instant. “Are you in pain?”

“Not so much, though it does throb some. It will be better when the cloth is changed.”

“So, picking flowers for a young serving girl is tantamount to escape.”

“And now the girl feels as though it is her fault for my troubles.”

After Greta came and tended Christopher’s wounds, Beecher and Keller went through the dark hallway of the servant’s quarters to spend some time in the sun. They walked only a short distance in the courtyard before Christopher paused, and Tobias led him to a nearby bench. He noted the guards on the wall, watching them.

“I think your injuries are more than we are making of them. If they are infected you will only get worse.”

Christopher smiled fondly on his friend. “Give it time, ’tis only been a day since you rescued me.”

“Rescue...that sounds so heroic.”

“That you are, my hero, my champion.” Christopher’s arms wrapped around Tobias, and he kissed him soundly on the cheek.

“Christy, you should write a sonnet,” Beecher laughed.

Back in their room, Christopher asked after Genevieve, and the state of Toby’s marriage.

“I believe she has taken a lover.” Tobias sighed, having never uttered the words aloud before. He and Christopher were sitting on the side of the bed, and the other’s hand came to rest comfortingly on his leg.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “We have not slept together in months, now that she no longer wishes to try again for a child. And she finds many reasons to visit at the home of our neighbor, Robert Rebadow.”

Christopher looked off, thinking. “I thought Robert’s only son was already married and living to the North.”

“He is. It is the old man himself who I believe is the culprit.”

Christopher turned his head, but Tobias could see by the shake of his shoulders that he was laughing. Stung, he gained his feet and crossed the room, glaring. “You think me being a cuckold is amusing?”

“I think anyone being cuckolded by a man who should have been dead twenty years ago is quite funny!”

Tobias crossed his arms and turned his back, standing rigid when Christopher came to him and wrapped his arms around him.

“I am sorry, my love. But do you really care? You are here with me, what matter is it what she does?”

Beecher stubbornly refused to be appeased but when, a moment later, Christy’s lips pressed full against his neck, his stubbornness fled from the shiver the gesture brought and he relaxed into the comforting embrace.

“Does this mean you have forgiven me?”

Tobias smiled and turned, his arms snaking around his friend. “There is nothing to forgive, as I see the humor in the situation, though it pricks at my pride.”

“Perhaps,” Christopher said, his voice low and heavy, “if I were to prick at you, you would forget your pride.”

“Sir Keller,” Tobias chided, “if you were on your deathbed, I do believe you would be reaching beneath the skirts of the maids come to wrap you in your shroud.” He kissed Christopher on the cheek and put him back to bed.

 

 

 

 

 

Christopher slept through that night, and most of the next day. When he was awake, they played cards and dice, discussing events at court or catching up on mutual friends. They avoided speaking on the matter at hand, trying to avoid the tension they both felt as they awaited the arrival of Shillinger. While Christopher slept, Tobias wrote letters to family and read from books Greta had brought him from the library.

On the third night, after their dinner was taken and Keller’s wounds tended to, Tobias sat at the table, the waning light from the window aided by candlelight. He was writing to Christy’s father, and his own, as well as his wife and yet another letter to the Queen. He thought Christopher asleep, until the man called to him.

“Come to bed, Toby, I am lonely here.”

“Give me a few moments more, and I will have them done.” He had only to finish the letter to his wife, a task he would not linger over. His marriage had been devoid of love and passion for years now. He felt lucky in some ways, that at least in the beginning he and Genevieve had found happiness; most marriages were arranged according to the greatest benefit to the family, the feelings of the bride and groom being of no consideration.

It had started three years ago, after Genevieve had suffered her third miscarriage. She had been so distraught, so terrified of it happening again, she had refused Tobias admittance to her bed; that he could understand, and even accept –he had no qualm about seeking his release elsewhere, though the knowledge he would have no heir caused him much grief. But Genevieve’s sorrow soon turned to bitterness, and Tobias began to feel as though she blamed him for her inability to carry a child to term.

He began spending more time away from home, and she never complained. When they were together, time was spent silently, broken only by the need to communicate about the running of the household and farm.

The letter he wrote now was mostly instructions as to what to tell John in regards to preparing the estate for winter. Both Genevieve and John could accomplish what needed to be done without any instruction from him, he knew, but he could not quell the guilt he felt in practically abandoning John, who had been a good and loyal servant since his boyhood, and even Genevieve, whose life had become nothing that she had dreamed of.

He signed and sealed the letter, closed his inkwell and wiped his pens, putting everything carefully away in the leather pouch he had made for his writing supplies. He put out the candles and turned to the fire, stirring it up and adding small branches to the coals. This autumn was continuing to be unseasonably warm, but the nights grew chilly.

As he straightened up from the fire, he found Christopher propped up on his arm, his gaze as intent as his smile.

“What?”

“Are you nervous, sweetheart?”

“What?” Tobias shook his head at the question, but the slight lurch in his stomach assured him he knew of what Christy spoke.

Christopher held out his hand. “Now that I am feeling better, you seem to be avoiding me, and I think you have put off your journey to this bed as long as you can. Is there anything else to be done before you join me?”

“I have shared a bed with you more time than either of us could recall, why should I be postponing it this time?”

Christopher only looked at him until they both began laughing at the same time; neither could deceive the other.

“Do not worry, Toby, I only crave your companionship, and the warmth of your body, as I have so many other nights.”

The comment warmed Tobias and he quickly undressed and pulled on his nightshirt. He approached the bed, forcing the smile on his lips to remain as he noted the lines around Christopher’s eyes, and the way his mouth was still drawn and tight.

Christopher took Tobias’ hand in his and gently pulled him down. Tobias felt a flutter of nerves as they lay on their sides, looking at one another. In the months since he had last seen his friend, he had thought of little else but his decision to commit to their relationship taking this serious and possible dangerous turn.

Though he knew his heart and all he had to give belonged to Christy, it was still strange and fearful to think of having a physical relationship with a man, even one he loved so much.

Christopher smoothed his hand over the cheek of the other, and when he tilted his head closer, and Tobias closed his eyes and accepted the kiss, the fear fell from him, confident in his trust of his oldest friend.

But then something else took his attention, and he pulled away. “You are so hot, Christy!” He briefly put his hand to the fevered brow before leaving the bed to bring a cup of water, along with a wet cloth to wipe the warm face.

“It is not so bad, Toby, I feel so much better than before you came to my rescue.” He took the cloth from Tobias, setting it on the table. “You are still avoiding me.” He held out his hand and when Tobias took it, Christopher pulled him down onto him and the bed.

“No, I am only worried.” Tobias made to stand up but Christopher’s arms around him held him fast, and he gave in to the feeling of peace and belonging he felt there.

The rolled to their sides and shared another kiss, this one longer and deeper, and though the warmth he felt coming from Christopher still concerned him, it was not enough to for him to deny the warm glow of love he also felt.

Christopher pulled him closer, then pushed him back, tugging at his nightshirt. “Take this off.”

Tobias did and then the two men were stretched out nude beside each other.

“Are you scared?” Christopher gently touched his lover’s lips, his voice low.

Tobias pressed his fingertips against Christopher’s chest. “I would never be scared of you, but I do confess I am nervous.”

“We will stop at any time you wish. What I want more than anything is simply to be here next you.”

Tobias accepted Christopher’s kiss, slow and tender as their hands came together, fingers twined. Carefully, Christopher pushed Tobias onto his back, and his kiss grew more persistent until Tobias parted his lips and allowed Christopher’s tongue entrance.

After only a moment, Christopher pulled back. “Are you all right?”

Tobias was breathing hard, and his mind was muddled and his heart racing, but he was growing hard under Christy’s thigh and thoughts of Hell and damnation were growing ever dimmer. “Oh, I am more than that,” he said, wrapping his arms around his lover and pulling him close.

Christopher laughed in his ear and kissed his mouth again before trailing kisses along his jaw and to his neck. “Oh, Toby, this is my dreams come true. I love you so – I wish I could tell you.”

Tobias turned his head, kissing the side of Christopher’s. “I know, I know, I love you, too. I cannot – ” He gasped and his body arched as Christopher shifted, his arm moving between them and taking his cock in hand.

“Ah, my sweet God, Christy.” Tobias could not stop his hips from moving, his cock sliding through Christopher’s fingers as they kissed again, this time hard and desperate.

And then Christopher pulled his mouth from his lover’s and began another path of kisses across his heated flesh, down his throat and across his chest, taking a moment to suckle each nipple in turn, and act which had Tobias fisting his hands in the sheets.

Tobias looked down, watching the dark head move across his body, looking at Christy’s hands, one on his hip, the other gripping his arm. He shut his eyes tight, letting himself just feel, not really believing this was happening.

“Toby.”

Tobias opened his eyes and looked down at Christy, resting his chin on Toby’s stomach.

“Are you okay?”

Tobias nodded and licked his dry lips. “I am. Are you?”

Christopher smiled and his eyes shone. “I must pause and look at you, hear your voice, to know that you are real.”

Tobias ran his hand lovingly over Christopher’s dark head. “Will you kiss me again?”

Christopher moved back up and their kiss was deep and long. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly and Christopher’s hands found their place in Tobias’ golden curls.

“I would like to touch you,” Tobias said when they finally broke the kiss, suddenly feeling shy.

“I would like you to touch me,” Christopher answered, his voice rough with desire, as he made room between them.

Tobias ran his hand over Christopher’s chest, feeling his heart beat beneath his diminished muscle. He went lower, smiling when Christopher’s stomach fluttered under his touch. His fingertips smoother over the sharp jut of hipbone, then back up again. Christopher laid back, his eyes glued to Toby’s hand, his breath coming fast and hard. Tobias felt a power he had not previously, seeing the affect he had over this man. He took a deep breath and softly wrapped his fingers around his lover’s cock.

Christopher groaned and his body shook. Tobias moved his hand, firm and slow. He knew from touching himself, of course, the feel of a cock in his hand. But to hold Christopher thusly, to see the passion on his face and hear the noises coming from him and know that he was the cause – he had never known anything like it, and the enormity of emotion it caused seemed to fill his gut until he thought he would burst with it.

Christopher tensed and suddenly he moved, pushing Tobias back. “Ah, gods, Toby, I must taste you.”

Christopher kissed and licked across his ribs and belly while Tobias squirmed under his touch. Christopher went lower, kissing down one hip and back up the inside of his thigh. He did the same on the other side until Tobias thought surely he would die before anything more could happen. But then Christopher looked up at him, eyes heavy and dark and kissed the tip of Toby’s leaking cock. A great tremor went through Tobias’ body, and a he let out a moan. His hands found Christy’s head and held tight as the hot, slick mouth took him further, the sight which seemed as if in a dream. As his body continued to shake, he looked Heavenward and whispered through clenched teeth - “Sweet Virgin Mother, please close your eyes.”

Suddenly, Christy’s soft lips were gone and his face was pressed into Toby’s belly – and he was laughing. His body shook with his laughter, and when he raised his head his eyes were filled with tears.

“Should I be offended? You take my cock into your mouth and then are overcome with mirth?” Tobias wished to be angry, but he was soon laughing along.

“Oh, my Toby, do you really think the sweet Virgin would close her eyes at the sight of your glorious body?”

“It is your ass she sees as she looks down.”

“Well, then, it is certain,” Christopher said, causing Tobias to jump as he licked down the length of his cock, “she will be watching.”

The retort Tobias had on his lips was lost in a gasp as Christopher started again what he had stopped. It was not long, only a minute or two, before Christy’s talented lips and tongue had him biting his lip to keep from shouting as he found his release.

He pulled Christopher up to him, and they held each other as Tobias regained his breath.

“Did you find that pleasurable?” Christopher teased.

“It will suffice,” Tobias replied, prompting Christy to gently bite his neck in mock outrage.

“But what of you?” Tobias asked, now serious as he took Christopher by the shoulders. “Do you want me to...I mean, I will try...”

“Shhh.” Christopher put his fingers to Toby’s lips, before taking Toby’s hand to his cock. “You have already done all you need.”

Tobias curled his fingers around Christopher, finding him full, but sticky and softening. He looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “What...?”

Christopher pulled him close, and they lay together on their sides, nose to nose. “Toby, making love to you was all I needed. Being allowed to touch you, to kiss your body as I did, I could barely contain my passion. And then, when I tasted you as you found your completion...” he kissed Tobias deeply – “that was all I needed for my own.”

They dozed for a while, and then Tobias brought a bottle of wine to the bed.

“No glasses?” Christopher asked, amused.

“No glasses,” Tobias answered, drinking from the bottle. “Tonight is a night of sinful debauchery and uncivilized behavior.”

Christopher took the bottle and drank, smiling at Toby. “You seem to have forgotten your nerves.”

“The way you reacted to my touch had all doubt and fear leave me.”

“And the feel of your hand on me will be all I think of until the next time.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

They made love again the next night, kissing and stroking each other until they came together, pressing desperately against each other. But as they lay together afterward, Tobias noticed Christopher favoring his right leg more than usual as he stood to relieve himself in the chamber pot.

“Are you feeling worse, love?”

Christopher’s smile was so warm that Tobias momentarily forgot his worry. “Toby, to hear you call me your love takes all pain away.”

But Tobias did continue to worry, as Christopher failed to progress over the next few days. He stayed always fevered, though some days not as much as others. The infected rings on his ankles, where the chains had worn through the skin were not healing. The left seemed to be making progress, but every time Greta changed the bandages, there seemed to be no change to the right, and it remained inflamed and fluid-filled. Though Greta used every means available to her, it was not enough.

When a week had passed, Tobias gave Peter his horse and told him to ride to Warrick and bring back a doctor.

Soon after the boy left, the door to their room was slammed open. “How dare you order my servants away without my permission! What if he were needed?”

Christopher sat up in his bed, ready to reply, but Tobias pushed Robson from the room and closed the door behind him. “You will not enter our room without permission, do you hear?”

Robson’s mouth dropped and his face turned red. “How dare you, you ponce! I am lord of this manor while Shillinger is away. I give you leeway to deal with the prisoner, but you will not take charge of my servants.”

The servants had been doing Beecher’s bidding since he arrived, so he knew it was the alcohol he smelled on Robson’s breath that was causing this sudden indignation. Mary had told them this morning that more friends of Robson had arrived the night before, staying up through the dawn, drinking and gaming and harassing the few young maids that were in attendance. Tobias was sure Robson was only making a scene to impress his companions.

Tobias kept his composure. “Robson, Sir Keller is not healing. The Queen may be angry with him, but she does not want him dead. What will it look like for you, and for Shillinger, if he were to die while in your keep?”

“Keller’s lifeless body would be a fair gift to present to Shillinger when he returns,” Robson snarled.

“When you sober up, you will realize what a mistake that would be.” Without another word, Tobias went back to Keller and shut the door in Robson’s face.

That afternoon, the doctor arrived. He was an old man, the long white hair of his beard making up for the lack of it on his head. He shuffled into the room, bent almost completely over a cane he slid along the floor. He did not reply to Beecher’s greeting, nor his thanks to the man for coming so soon. He said nothing until he collapsed into a chair and called for a drink. When Beecher poured a cup from the water jug, the man waved it away, his face twisted in disgust.

“My bones are bouncing in my skin from that ride! I need something to revive myself.”

An hour later, the doctor was on his way back to Warrick, carried to Beecher’s horse by Peter and Andrew and flung upon the saddle, tied securely with a length of rope. Peter mounted another horse and led the doctor away.

Tobias watched them go from the main gate, his face mottled red with frustration and rage. The doctor had obviously already been drunk when he arrived, because two cups of wine had him nearly falling from his seat. Tobias would not even let him near Christopher when he realized what was happening, instead searching through the man’s bag (Beecher wondered if the man had any schooling in medicine at all) pulling powders and salves onto the table. In the end, he used none of them, trusting nothing from the drunkard.

As he headed back to his room and entered the wing of the castle that housed the servant’s quarters, he became aware of a commotion going on in the back of the castle by the kitchens. He did not investigate, not wishing to come upon Robson and his friends, and instead found out what was going on later from Greta when she brought another shirt she and Mary had sewn for Christopher.

“ ’tis a traveling fair, of some sort. A group of minstrels and dancers, willing to put on a show for Mr. Robson and his friends in exchange for a decent place to sleep the night. They have even brought some venison and fish they are willing to share for a small cost. ’twill be nice, as we have been out of fresh meat for a few days now – I will be sure you have some with your evening meal.”

“Thank you, Greta, that would be appreciated. Perhaps a solid meal will help Sir Keller, though,” he was quick to add, “your soups and breads have been muchly enjoyed.”

“And thank you for the clothing, good lady.” Christopher ran his hand over the lightweight nightshirt he was now wearing. Another of the same material, along with a warm woolen one, was stored in the trunk.

“I’m glad they suit you, sir. We will have another outfit for you soon, complete with tights and hose. Percy will be along soon with your supper.”

At the door she turned and bowed her head. “I was sorry to hear about the doctor, m’lord. There was once a good doctor here, ’tis a shame his replacement is such a charlatan. I wish I could do more myself.”

Tobias went quickly to the woman and took her hand. “If not for all you and the others have done, I have no doubt Sir Keller would be far closer to death than not.”

After the housekeeper left, Tobias stood staring out the doorway after her. He then turned and paced the room a step or two, still frustrated with the ill luck of the doctor. He noticed Christopher watching him, and stopped, forcing a smile he did much feel. “Would you like to play some cards?”

Christopher seemed not to hear, and his expression was sober. “Toby, how long do you plan on staying here?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere, but was not completely unexpected – they had not discussed this yet, though it was a matter Tobias knew they should.

“I have not thought on it much.” Tobias sat on the edge of the bed, taking the wet cloth from the bowl of water that sat always on the bedside table and wiped the brow of his lover. “Growing tired of me?”

Tobias smiled, meaning the question as a joke, but Christopher had no answering smile; instead he sat up, wrapping himself around Beecher, holding him tight. Tobias could hear him swallowing and feel his body tense.

Rubbing one hand in slow circles on the broad back, and the other gently cradling the dark head, Tobias said nothing, only held his friend and wished with all he had that they were far away, strong and healthy and living their lives in peace.

After several moments, they silently lay down in the position they always took when going to sleep, on their sides with Tobias wrapped around Christopher from behind.

“I am scared of when you will have to leave,” Christopher finally said, his voice so low that Tobias had to lean over his shoulder to hear him. “I have been without you in the most dire of circumstances, fought bloody battles without you by my side. But I am scared now to be alone. Now that I have finally gained what I have wished for so long, I am afraid if you leave me I will never have you back.” He grasped the hand Tobias had resting on his arm and pulled it close to his chest. “I can survive imprisonment and even torture, but I am scared to realize I cannot survive without your love.”

“Oh, my Christy.” Tobias pressed his lips against Christopher’s cheek. “You will have my love, always, always, no matter where I am.”

“I know, I know. It seems though that the knowledge of that does not come close to comforting me in the way your presence does.”

“I understand.” And he did. In all the time since their last visit, no more than a few minutes could pass without his thoughts turning to Keller. And now that they were together again, it seemed as though life would not be right without him by his side. He stroked Christopher’s arm and spoke softly in his ear. “Do you remember when you asked me if I would leave with you if you were to be exiled?”

Christopher shifted, turning over. “Toby, do not think on that, it matters not.” His eyes were heavy with tears. “Please.”

“Listen to me.” His own eyes filled and he swallowed against the tears that threatened. “My answer to you was that I did not know.” He took Christopher’s hand and pressed it against his heart. “I want you to know that my place is with you, always from now on. No matter where you go, or what becomes of you, I will be there. Always. At some point I will have to go home and finish my marriage with Genevieve, but after that you will never be rid of me.” He pressed his lips to Christopher’s nose and kissed the tear that had dripped there.

“Toby...” Christopher’s voice broke and he buried his head against Tobias’ chest and cried.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Tobias looked over at the bed, making sure the quiet scratching at the door did not wake Christopher. He set aside the letter he was writing to the Queen, wondering wryly if she might give Christy his freedom simply to be done with these pleas from him, and answered the door.

The servant boy, Peter, was there, bowing as he said, "Lord Beecher, you have a visitor. He waits in the main hall."

Putting a finger to his lips, Tobias motioned Peter to wait while he quickly pulled on his jerkin and boots. "Who is it?" he asked, after carefully closing the door behind them.

"He did not give his name, only said to ask if you and Sir Keller remember the maid with red hair who danced so delightfully the last time you were here."

O'Reily, it had to be. Beecher's pleasure at seeing his old friend was tempered as he realized the dire circumstances of O'Reily's presence here. Only this morning word had arrived that Shillinger had returned to England, and was on his way to Warwick. It was going to be bad enough that Beecher had come - to add O'Reily to the mix would guarantee calamity.

Beecher hurried to the main hall, hoping to ward his friend away before his path could cross with Robson. As he went, he recalled the sorrowful event that had brought about this animosity - even hatred - for each other.

It was a birthday party thrown by Elizabeth for Robert Dudley, her constant companion and, it was rumored behind closed doors by some, her lover.

Hampton Court was full of merry-makers, with pageants and plays to fill the evenings, and games to fill the days.

Christopher excelled at the joust, and spent much of his time on the fields, participating and watching his competition.

Ryan and Cyril O'Reily had arranged matches in the newly popular sport of boxing, and Ryan, as always, had found a way to fill his pockets by betting on his brother.

Tobias was skilled in fencing – as his marriage deteriorated, he had spent much time sparring with a trainer and was now winning far more matches than he was losing.

Shillinger and Robson were both there, though at the time they were mere acquaintances, Robson having made friends with Shillinger's sons, met at a gaming hall months before.

In late afternoon of the third day of festivities, Harold Shillinger and Cyril O'Reily engaged in a heated boxing match, with their families and friends, as well as many other men of the court, gathered around the makeshift stage set up adjacent to the magnificent rose gardens.

It was a close match, and exciting, until Cyril finally brought Harold down with a hard punch to the nose. The match was called over, with Harold protesting, despite the flow of blood from his face.

As the crowd began to disperse, James Robson approached the O'Reily brothers, accusing Cyril of cheating.

"And how is that?" Ryan asked, and he and his brother began yelling, taunting Harold who was standing a pace away, holding a once-white, now crimson, cloth to his nose.

"How do you cheat when the weapons are your strength and skill, Shillinger?" Ryan called out. "And why do you send your lackey to make the accusation? Too feared to get close to Cyril again?"

Cyril pushed at Robson, speaking loud enough for Harold to hear. "Go tell your friend to come find me when he learns something. Or when he has grown up enough to play with men. I really should not have even entertained the idea of fighting him, such a boy, wet behind the ears."

Tobias and Christopher watched from the sidelines, shaking their heads. Harold obviously had enough talent to hold his own for a length of time with Cyril; the talk was only to rile the young man.

Ryan and Cyril turned to leave, their arms slung about each other's shoulders. Tobias smiled at the gesture, and thought how he missed his little brother, Angus, living up North will his growing family.

Of a sudden, an angry cry rent the air as Harold ran past. Before the two brothers could fully turn Harold flew into Cyril, punching him in the side of the head. The blow sent the man stumbling; it looked as though he would stay his footing, but he stepped back onto a rock, loosened from the garden path, and he fell.

All those who witness the fall encouraged Cyril to his feet, anticipating a fight, or at least an angry confrontation. "Get him, Cyril!" Christopher yelled, but the younger brother lay still.

Ryan was soon kneeling at his brother's side, urging him to open his eyes. He stroked his hand over the unfashionably long blond hair, and Tobias saw with shock that his hand came away red with blood.

He looked over at Harold, standing surrounded by his brother and their friends. The young man's eyes were opened wide and Tobias felt a momentary twinge of compassion for him.

Cyril did not open his eyes until the next day, and when he did it was revealed to the horror of all that the bright, hard-living, hard-loving man now had the mind of a child. He recognized all he had known, and he seemed to realize something was different, but his speech and tone of voice was that of a young boy. All he wanted was his brother, and so Ryan sat with him for three days without rest, helping the doctors to keep Cyril still while the wound on his head healed.

Christopher and Tobias, as well as many other friends, took turns sitting with Ryan. It was on the second day that Ryan lost control of his emotion, and broke down on Christopher's shoulder. Later, as Christopher recounted the moment with Tobias, both men had tears in their eyes.

It was O'Reily's heart-breaking display of emotion that spurred Christopher to the action he took. He left Ryan asleep on the floor next to the bed of his brother, and sought out Harold Shillinger, found in a small sitting room in the palace, surrounded by friends and pitchers of ale.

“To avenge the name of Cyril O’Reily, I act on behalf of his brother Ryan and challenge you to a duel.” Christopher leaned over, his face close to that of Harold’s. "Or are you afraid to face a man, preferring to attack him from behind?"

As Beecher heard later from one who had been there, James Robson was the one most vocal in spurring Harold on.

Christopher would not fight Harold while he had been drinking, and told him he would meet him later when his head had time to clear.

When Tobias returned the next morning from a visit to an uncle in London, he found Keller preparing for the duel. He thought to try and talk him out of it, but refrained. The sight of Cyril had troubled him greatly, and he felt no small want for revenge as well. He, along with other friends, accompanied Keller to the meeting place.

When Christopher and Harold came together, their duel lasted only a moment. Keller easily knocked Harold’s sword from his hand, and then threw down his own in disgust. Harold was drunker than before – he had apparently been drinking through the night.

But the young man would not accept the refusal to fight, and ran after Christopher, his retrieved sword in one hand, knife in the other. At the warning shout from Tobias and others, Keller turned, knife drawn on impulse; the younger man ran directly onto the blade, his sword only nicking Keller’s sleeve. He fell, and the blood drained from his body in moments.

Keller was taken instantly to the Queen’s chamber, and the story told, witnesses heard. The Queen decided in Keller’s favor, and spoke directly to Vernon Shillinger when he arrived the next day. After her conversation with the grieving father, she called Keller to the room. Later, Christopher would not say much about it, only that Shillinger accepted his apology and assurances that he did not wish to fight the boy when he was drunk, and even shook his hand.

“But it was for the Queen, Toby. He blames me, I know, I could see it in his eyes.”

And in the years since, the three friends had maintained their distance from Vernon and his remaining son, which was not hard to do with the latter, as Andrew left for France soon after his brother’s death.

Shillinger hated the thought of his son in France, a place he considered the center of sin and evil, and so into the hole left by the absence of the two boys, James Robson took the opportunity to attach himself to the Shillinger household, earning his keep and wages and the protection of Shillinger. He was a perfect companion – one who wished only ill toward both Keller and Beecher.

Tobias entered the main hall for the first time - neither he nor Christy had ventured far from the servant’s quarters or the kitchens during their stay, they had no need. Tobias took note of the clean, yet sparse, appearance of the place. No tapestries hung on the walls, and any fine dishes or decorations were absent. Greta was obviously a devoted housekeeper, regardless of the condition of the estate. But Tobias was sure it chafed at Shillinger to be the master of such a place, even temporary.

He found Ryan in a small dining hall - unfortunately, Robson had found him first. The two were facing off, knives drawn, oaths flying.

"I have the Queen's command to cause no harm to Shillinger, but promised nothing on your account."

"Likewise," James sneered. "It would bring me nothing but pleasure to present your body to Shillinger." He noticed Beecher standing behind Ryan and nodded. "And the same for your friend, while Keller rots in his cell."

Ryan gave a quick glance over his shoulder. "Beecher!" His grin was wide, even facing a knife.

Tobias moved closer, keeping the long dining table between himself and the two armed men. "Put the knives down, you fools! You know neither will be the first to draw blood. God help me, you are children!"

The two men glared at each other, and then O'Reily suddenly shrugged and drove his knife point into the table. "You are the voice of reason, as always, my friend." He came around the table and hugged Beecher as though nothing had gone on. "Now, I am longing to see my brother Keller."

Robson came round the table, his hand down but still clutching the knife. "This is unacceptable!" he snarled. "The man is a prisoner of the Queen, yet he is being treated as an honored guest."

Beecher scoffed. "Prisoners are allowed visitors. In any case, you have no authority to decide that."

"We'll see what Shillinger has to say upon his return." Robson spit at the feet of the two men. "And that will be soon enough."

Beecher longed to throttle the man, but he held his fists and tongue. He would give Robson no more ammunition to use against him or Christopher. Instead, he stood quietly, one hand clenched on O'Reily's arm, signaling his desire for the man to remain silent as well as Robson stormed from the hall.

As the men made their way to the servant’s quarters, O’Reily queried Beecher. "What goes on? Keller is being kept in a cell? Is this the order of the Queen?"

"No, no, it is not. And he is no longer being kept in a cell, though he would be there the moment I left this place." Tobias told him what had transpired in the first week since he had arrived. "And then two days ago Keller had a setback." They stopped, having arrived at the room. "But I will tell you of that after you have seen him."

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Ryan pushed open the door, taking quick note of the room. It was decently sized, and seemed comfortable enough, with a large window letting in the sun and a fire crackling in the fireplace, despite the warm day.

Keller looked up from the bed, his expression pleasant surprise.

"My brother, Sir Christopher Keller." Ryan brought out his brogue, rolling his Rs as he always did when using this same greeting to his friend.

Keller rose from his bed, despite protestations from Beecher. They met at the end of the bed, embracing each other warmly, parting when a hacking cough forced itself from Christopher's chest.

Ryan looked at Tobias, keeping his alarm in check. Tobias only shook his head and motioned to Ryan to take one of the chairs. "You," he said, pointing to Christopher, "back in bed."

It did not surprise Ryan at all when Christopher obediently followed the order. As long as he had known the two, Keller deferred to Beecher. It never seemed a weakness, only a show of his respect and affection.

"So," Ryan began, "was life becoming so boring that you felt the need to alienate your Queen and end up prisoner of your mortal enemy?"

"That is it," Christopher answered with a grin. "With you gone back to the wilds of Ireland and Beecher submerged in the life of gentleman farmer, I was left to my own devices. And see where that has brought me.” His expression grew more somber. “How is your brother?”

Ryan felt a twinge of guilt, as he always did when separated from Cyril. “He does fine, the best he has been. He is away from our father, living with our aunt on her small farm. Our uncle died last year, and it has been a struggle for Auntie to keep the place. Cyril loves the hard work and has shown a remarkable talent for horsemanship. He has even made some coin breaking horses for the neighboring farmers, and he does it so calmly and peaceably.”

“He has always been a great horseman,” Keller said. “Remember when Robson could not keep to the saddle of that wild pony Smith brought to school? Cyril had only to talk to the beast, it seemed, and he was riding it like a pet.”

Beecher clapped his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “I am so glad to hear he does well, and as found a place for himself. I hope it is far enough from your father so he will never have to see the man.”

Ryan did not take the time to relate the last conversation he had with Seamus O’Reily, and the threats he laid at the old sots feet. He was sure he had put enough fear into their Da to keep him from ever daring to approach his younger son. And he had left enough coin to keep the man in whiskey and too drunk to think of much else.

“I believe Cyril has seen the last of Seamus,” was all he said on the subject. “But let us speak of someone much fairer - how fares the lovely Glory, dear Beecher?”

“Ah, dear O’Reily, she fares well.”

“I long to see her again.” And while Ryan did not lack for female companionship, his mind would often turn to the dark-skinned beauty he had met during his younger years, when Beecher took him and Cyril from school to spent the Christmas season at his home.

It had been a revelation, to be welcomed into such a warm and loving family, and the days spent there were some of the happiest either youngster had known since the passing of their mother when they were but boys.

And then there had been Glory, the constant companion to Lady Beecher, and doctor, it seemed, to several villages around. Finding time alone to court the lovely Glory had been scarce, but he had managed it, that visit and others to follow. She played coy and resistant, but Ryan had the memory of many kisses, and even the feel of her breasts against his palms, to carry and sustain him until his next visit.

“Perhaps you shall, soon enough,” Beecher was saying, with a look upon his face that Ryan knew meant he was thinking on something. “We will talk of that later. Now, tell us, what have you heard of Keller?”

Ryan paused, as a knock on the door interrupted them. At Beecher’s command, a young girl, with long, shining gold hair came in, carrying a tray laden with a pitcher, a half loaf of bread, and what appeared to be many small bowls of jams and butters. Ryan quickly jumped from his chair and went to the girl, taking the heavy burden from her and setting it on the table.

“Thank you, Sir,” she stammered, dropping into a courtesy and blushing at the notion of a gentleman helping her.

Ryan brought her up from her bow with a hand to her chin. “What is your name, Lady?”

She blushed even harder at the inappropriate address. “I…I am Mary, Sir.”

Ryan hid his laughter and realized his teasing had gone far enough. “Thank you for the nourishment, Mary. I believe will be needing another pitcher soon enough. Perhaps some wine if the house can spare it?”

“Aye, Sir,” she said as she fled from the room.

Ryan turned to find Keller laughing at him and Beecher shaking his head in disapproval.

“She is a child, O’Reily,” Beecher chided. “You go too far.”

“Ha!” Ryan smirked at his friend’s words. “That was only but a step in going too far!” He winked at Keller and reclaimed his seat at the table, drinking down a cup of the beer and refilling his cup. “Ah, that is good enough to quench a thirst, but I would have something a little finer to pass the evening with my friends.”

“Mary will find us something good, I wager.” Beecher took a berry from the tray. “She is already in love with Keller, and now you seem to have seduced her as well.”

“Of course she is in love with our friend Keller, who is not?” Ryan took another drink, but over the top of his mug, he did not miss the look that passed between his two friends at his words. A suspicion he had had for the last year grew stronger, but he remained silent. He had news for his friends that he needed to tell.

After taking another drink, he began talking. “When I arrived back in England, I went to the Tower where my cousin Sean, you know, is a guard, and I learned that Keller had been moved.”

“Was Elizabeth there? Did you speak with her?” Beecher was leaning across the table, urgently grasping Ryan’s arm.

“She was not there, Tobias,” Ryan answered, wishing he had better news for the distraught man. “But a friend of mine, Arthur Maine, had been in attendance while she had been there, and he heard a rumor of her reasoning for her ill treatment of Christopher.” He squeezed Beecher’s hand and then rose from the table to pace the small space in front of the fire.

“He told me that many courtiers believe she is angered by comments you made, Christopher, to Dudley at the last Christmas celebration.”

Ryan looked from Beecher to Keller, seeing surprise and uncertainty on one face, and realization and resignation on the other. Keller knew of what Ryan was speaking, while Beecher did not.

“What, what did you say?” Tobias was on his feet, crossing the room to stand next to Ryan.

“I would assume it was when someone mentioned Elizabeth needing an heir, and I replied that unless Dudley’s tongue could deliver the seed to start life in our Most Reverent Majesty, England would remain without issue.”

Ryan stepped back, waiting for Beecher’s reaction; it came as expected.

“You said that?” Beecher stared in disbelief. “You said that to the closest companion to the Queen of England?” He turned toward Ryan, eyes wide in disbelief. “He said that?”

Ryan nodded his head, choosing to remain silent at this point.

“What goes through your head?” Beecher ran his hands through his hair, his face red and the vein in his forehead prominent in his rage.

“Tobias, Tobias, please.” Keller had swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and had his arms out, reaching for Beecher. “Calm down before we need a drunken doctor to look after you as well.”

“Sweet Mary, Keller, your mouth and addled brain have surpassed all I could envision you capable of.”

“Toby, sit down.” Keller was on his feet, gripping Beecher’s arms. But as Ryan watched, he noted the sway in Keller’s stance, and realized his grasp was more in steadying himself than calming Beecher.

Ryan was at his friend’s side in a moment. “Here, sit down before you faint.” He moved Keller to sit on the bed. “It may be a good enough ruse to quiet Beecher’s rant, but I am exhausted from my journey and not in the mood to be lifting you from the floor.”

“Christy, are you okay?” Ryan moved away as Beecher leaned over the bed, one hand holding Keller’s, the other stroking the man’s cheek.

Ryan sat back down at the table, watching the two interact, feeling almost an intruder on an intimate moment. His suspicion that this relationship had progressed beyond the years-long friendship seemed to be confirmed.

Ryan knew of Keller’s predilections toward bedding men as well as women, and while it had taken him time to come to terms with this aberration, he had. When Keller had told him last summer that his feeling toward Beecher had turned amorous, he vowed his silence, as Keller had requested, but he also urged the lovesick man to confess his love. Keller was afraid that Beecher would abandon their friendship at the news, but O’Reily had more faith in the Viscount. It seemed that Keller had finally taken his advice.

After Beecher had settled Keller back in bed, wiping his sweating brow and giving him a drink, he returned to the table.

“Perhaps this is good information,” he said, hopefully. “If Christopher will apologize to Dudley and the Queen, mayhap she will show mercy.”

As Ryan regretfully shook his head ‘no’, he noticed Keller doing the same. “I heard that he tried, and Dudley refused to accept. I see this is true, is it, Christopher?”

“Aye. I went to him the next day, and also wrote him after leaving court. His answer was the same both times – that to accept my apology would be to disrespect the Queen.”

“And we all know how Dudley and Elizabeth can hold a grudge.” Ryan could not see the Queen changing her mind soon on this matter.

“I do not understand. Keller’s words are themselves a reason for charges, to slander the Queen in this way. Why would she not arrest him for that, instead of this made-up crime?”

“Because, Toby, then she would have to speak my slander in public and draw more attention to her relationship with Dudley. In fact, I have heard that Dudley swears he did not even tell her, and her rancor towards me has nothing to do with ill-spoken words. Of course, we know this is not true, but we cannot call our Queen a liar, can we?”

A light knock at the door signaled Mary’s return, and she entered with a bottle of wine and a basket of honey cakes. “I am sorry to take so long; Greta bade me wait while she took these cakes from the oven.’

As she set the basket on the table, Ryan took her hand and brought it to his mouth, passing his lips lightly over her fingers. “You bring gifts to please our bellies, along with the gift of your beauty to please our eyes.”

The poor girl’s eyes widened to their limits, while her cheeks turned deeply red.

“You may go, Mary.” Beecher shook his head at Ryan.

Christopher refused any food; Ryan noted the troubled look this brought to Beecher’s face. The two ate quietly at the table until a light snoring from the bed signaled Keller’s slumber. Ryan took this opportunity to speak with Beecher.

“How fares our friend, Tobias? He seems more ill than I was hoping to find him – you mentioned a relapse a few days ago.”

“Yes.” Beecher rubbed at his temples, and Ryan noted the dark circles beneath his eyes and the tight lines at the man’s mouth and eyes. “A few of us ate some bad meat, fish or venison brought by a traveling faire, which they offered in exchange for use of the grounds to spend the night. After a day and night of the sick flowing from our bodies, I took Keller to the small stream behind the palace. I took pains to make sure he was quick and dried quickly, but he took a chill and his fever, which had been constant but low, became worse, until his skin burned at the touch.”

Ryan could see the pain and even guilt in the other’s eyes. “Are there no medicines or doctors to help?”

“The castle has some that help a little.” He told the story of the doctor from Warwickshire, and how he longed for the healing touch of Glory.

Beecher leaned over the table toward Ryan, his look desperate and hard. “You cannot be here when Shillinger arrives, O’Reily, you know this. I beg you to go to my parent’s home and bring Glory to us.”

Ryan had his answer immediately. “Of course, I shall leave in the morning.” He was glad to be able to help Keller and the thought of escorting the lovely Glory – of being alone with her on the trip from the Beecher estate to Warwick - was immensely appealing.

Beecher knew his thoughts. “And I will trust you to bring my childhood companion to me with her virtue as you find it.” The words were said with his lips twisted in a smile, but his eyes were serious.

“Of course.” And he left it at that.

When dinner was brought by Greta, she received the same flattering treatment as Mary, but she was able to return O’Reily’s bawdy comments with those of her own, in a manner that left O’Reily speechless, and Keller and Beecher laughing behind their hands.

Keller was able to sit for dinner, but put up only a token protest when Beecher forbade him from coming to the table. They drank and laughed and shared remembrances of happier times together, the only sober moment being when they recalled how Cyril O’Reily’s love of life had been a joy to witness.

“But it is the same,” Ryan declared, rubbing at his eyes. “He could not be happier, and he discovers something new every day.”

The meal ended with Peter and Percy bringing a straw mattress for Ryan’s use, laying it on the floor at the foot of the bed. Ryan quickly stripped to his chausses and dropped to the makeshift bed.

“The ride from London has worn me out,” he yawned.

“It could not be the many cups of ale and wine you drank, having that affect, could it?” Keller grinned from his bed.

“Oh, no, brother, you know the Irish can hold far more than the soft Englishmen.”

“Soft!” Keller moved to rise, but was firmly pushed back by Beecher. “You must be cherishing this moment, with me too weakened to defend the honor of my country.”

“Listen to your nurse,” Ryan nodded to Beecher, now mixing medicines into a cup of water, “and go to sleep.”

Ryan lay his head back down, listening to the evening ritual of the two men – their soft murmurs to each other as Beecher lowered the lamp light and banked the fire. After a few moments, Beecher pulled a chair close to O’Reily.

“I will give him a few minutes to fall deeper into sleep before joining him.”

Even in the dim light, Ryan again noted the exhaustion on his friend’s face. He moved to the edge of the soft, straw bed and motioned to the tired man.

“Here, lay with me a time and we can talk.”

Beecher hesitated, but then pulled off the outer layer of his clothing and joined Ryan, leaning against the large trunk at the end of the bed.

“I must thank you.”

“Thank me?” Ryan turned and propped himself up on his arm to look better at Tobias. “For getting Glory? It will be my pleasure, you may be assured.”

Beecher waved his hand and shook his head. “Too much of a pleasure, I am sure. But my thanks is for the advice you gave Christopher, when he told you of his indecision over confessing his love for me.”

Ryan grinned. “I was right, things have changed between the two of you.”

Beecher nodded. “At court, last autumn. I cannot describe what I felt, or what I feel even now. I know it is wrong in the eyes of most, and we face possible death if found, but I cannot deny him. I just know my place is with him.”

“That is all I need to know.” Ryan lay back down, staring at the ceiling. “I will help however I can.”

It had taken him many months to come to terms with Keller, those years ago, when the man had told him of his desires. It was wrong, unnatural and such a sin against God, that even Ryan, who did not have much use for the Deity, could not accept it. He had cut his ties with Keller, until Tobias found him in a bar in London.

He had told him, simply and directly, that he was behaving like an ass, and his refusal to see Keller had affected the man deeply.

“I cannot help it, Beecher the way I feel. How can you remain friends with him?”

“Because he is my friend. He is the same man, he acts the same, treats me the same, has the same values and attitudes. He is the same as always, and if he would prefer to take a young lad rather than lady to his bed, what is that to you?”

“It is an affront to Man and God.” Ryan drained his cup and banged it on the table, signaling for more.

Beecher leaned closer, looking around before he spoke. “You cannot say you have not been without sexual knowledge of a man.”

Ryan had remained stunned and speechless, long enough for Beecher to finish.

“When we were lads at school, we sometimes used the helping hand of our bedmate, did we not?”

“That is not the same thing, Beecher! Boys with an uncontrollable lust compared to men who know the sin it truly is!”

Beecher looked at him reproachfully. “You are a man, O’Reily, enough to know that what makes Keller such a good man and fine friend is not who he lays with, but what is in his heart.” He stood to leave, turning back to speak once more. “And do not ever preach to me what it is that God finds an affront. The list of your sins would choke a nun.”

It took some more time, but Beecher’s words and his own brother’s casual acceptance when he heard – “Huh,” Cyril had said with a shrug. “I thought that might be the case.” – along with Ryan’s undeniable affection for the man had him visiting Keller soon after, an apology on his lips and a bottle of wine in hand.

“Would you leave England to be with our Christopher? He mentioned such a possibility when I visited him in the Tower, but only as a wish on his part, I think.”

Ryan watched the anguish color his friend’s face. “He proposed that idea to me once, when he first declared his love. If I had accepted this would not be happening to him now.”

Ryan swatted Beecher’s leg. “You cannot see the future, Beecher. You had no idea this would happen. And perhaps things would be worse .”

“Such words of inspiration, thank you.”

The men shared a laugh, and talked into the night. When Christopher woke hours later, he found the two bent and twined together, sleeping heavily.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Count Vernon Shillinger rode toward the castle Warwick, accompanied by his small entourage, eager to reach his destination. He had arrived in London days earlier, staying at the small home he kept there. Awaiting him were several letters from James Robson, and one from Queen Elizabeth herself. The Queen’s and the first of Robson’s were informing him that Sir Keller had been left by the will of Elizabeth at Warwick Castle, to be kept there until further notice from her.

The second from James told of the arrival of Tobias Beecher, come to care for his friend, and the third conveyed James distress over matters at Warwick. He urged Shillinger to hurry home and deal with the situation.

Shillinger could not believe what had happened while he was gone. To have Christopher Keller a prisoner in his hands and under his control...Vernon had not stopped smiling since he heard the news. Other than having the man dead, nothing could please him more.

Two years had passed since his son Harold had died at the hands of Sir Keller. And though he had the ear and the affection of the Queen, Keller did as well. Elizabeth had ruled that his son’s death was not murder, but just. Shillinger would never believe that there had been no workings of foul play; Keller held revenge in his heart against Vernon and he had found his chance at it that day when he had interfered in the confrontation between Harold and O’Reily. Since that day, it had burned at him since to find justice for his beloved boy’s death.

When Shillinger had heard about the more recent accusations against Keller, and his imprisonment at the Queen’s command, his heart had rejoiced knowing that the court favorite was finally receiving the punishment he deserved, even if was for a crime he had not committed.

Among the courtiers that Vernon had talked with, it was commonly believed, though never spoken - except in hushed circles - that Keller was innocent of the crime of which he was accused. But in denying the wishes of Elizabeth to confess, he was in fact committing a crime against the court, if not against the law.

He did not think it mere happenstance that Elizabeth had left Keller in his hands. She was angry with the knight, and knowing Shillinger’s feeling’s against him, why else would she put him at Warwick if not to have a punishment mete out deserving to one who would deny his queen.

And to have Beecher there as well could only add to his enjoyment of the situation. He had once gone to the elder Beecher in search of financial backing for his proposed importing ventures, only to be turned down in a most condescending manner. And two years ago, when he had campaigned to become the comptroller for Elizabeth, seeking support from other members of her council, Beecher had urged them to turn the Queen’s favor from him to another, afraid that Shillinger’s close friendship with the monarch would allow him to show favoritism toward his family and friends. Shillinger had scoffed at this when he heard – no one advanced or succeeded in court without the machinations that were constantly in motion. There was no man on council that did not favor his friends and family. Lord Beecher simply did not like Shillinger…and the sentiment was returned.

Arriving at the Warwick, he sent his servants to ready his rooms and hurried from the stables to find James Robson in the main hall, drinking wine and harassing the young maids with two of his friends - friends which had been taking their leisure and their fill of food and drink at his expense during the whole of his absence, he was sure. He was given a set amount to keep the castle ready for the arrival of Elizabeth or any guests that she gave leave to stay there. The meager allowance was not meant to indulge the gutter trash he saw before him.

“Robson!”

James was on his feet, dismissing the maids and whispering to his two rough-looking companions, who left quickly through a back hallway.

“Vernon, thank God you’ve arrived! Did you get my letters?” He rushed on without waiting for an answer. “I want Beecher punished – now!”

“Beecher?” Shillinger wasn’t surprised; though Tobias Beecher was generally a calm and thoughtful man, it was no surprise that his championing of Sir Keller would disrupt the household. His opinions and statement during the case of Keller and the death of his son went greatly to sway the Queen in the knight’s favor.

“Since his arrival he has been giving orders and usurping my authority. He removed Keller from his cell and gave him a bed, ordering the servants to serve them both. He has taken him outside the castle walls, where he easily could have escaped. The servants ignore –”

“Robson, stop!”

Robson’s mouth shut with a snap.

“Let us sit and you can explain to me in a more calmly manner what has been going on.” Vernon took a seat and stretched out his legs. “I’ve been many hours on horseback – do you think you might attend to me a moment before making demands of me?”

James bowed his head. “I am sorry, m’lord. What may I bring you?”

“A glass of that wine you were enjoying would suffice for now.” Vernon took several moments to loosen his clothing and sooth his dry mouth with the wine. “Now, James, tell me what has been going on in my absence.”

Shillinger could not help the smile ghosting his lips as he watched James pace the floor and listened to him describe the last few days. Here was an amazing opportunity to extract his revenge from both men.

“Don’t worry, my son, it will all be taken care of soon enough.” Vernon motioned to a chair across the table. “Sit, and tell me where you found this marvelous wine.” He held the goblet up to catch the rays of the sun coming through the window. “It is quite good.”

“What? The wine is not of importance, Shillinger. What will be done about Beecher and Keller?”

“That is my decision, is it not?” The fate of those two men was truly all he wanted to think upon, but he had to make sure Robson remembered who was in charge. “Right now, I am concerned with the fact that you have been getting into the Queen’s own storage room. What else have you stolen from your sovereign?”

“Stolen? Nothing, I swear! I only brought this bottle out to celebrate your homecoming.”

“Or is it that you have already depleted the supply left for the castle staff?”

“How was your trip?” James sat down across from Shillinger, leaning across the table.

Vernon had to smile at the man’s weak attempt to divert interest from himself. “The trip itself was enjoyable, but not profitable. My family was not inclined to invest in my venture.”

Vernon felt the irritation he had carried with him since the meeting with his family in Germany stir in his breast. If only he could find the proper financing, he knew he could become a very rich man. He knew of a man who was looking for partners in a venture to the new-found country of America. But there were too many questions about the venture that he could not yet answer to the satisfaction of the countrymen he sought help from.

He looked around at the great hall in which he sat. The shabbiness of the grandeur seemed to reflect his own situation. His family name was known and respected, but the actual land and money had never been much. He had refrained from asking the Queen herself for help, as so many did. He wished to be a pure confident for the Monarch, requesting nothing in return for his sympathies, and so keeping himself a true friend in her eyes. If he handled the imprisonment of Keller correctly, he hoped she would offer the assistance he needed on her own. And if he reaped his own revenge in the process, all the better.

“A mistake on their part.”

“What?” He turned his attention back to James.

“A mistake on the part of your family. I’ve heard good things about the wilds of America. I heard that Raleigh speaks on the subject at great length.”

“Hmm, yes.” Shillinger took another sip of wine. “This is very good,” he said, tipping his glass. He did not think the Queen would notice a few bottles missing.

“Another thing,” James said, pouring himself another drink. “Ryan O’Reily was here.”

“What?” Vernon sputtered.

“Only last night. He left this morning, afraid to show his face to you, I wager.”

Shillinger hated Ryan O’Reily. After the death of Harold, O’Reily had spent much energy on telling all he saw how Harold was a coward, a fearful weakling who would only attack men from behind and when they were unarmed. The Queen had ordered that all parties involved were prevented from committing harm to each other, else O’Reily and Keller would have been lying dead side by side two years ago.

A young servant entered the room, head bowed. “Sir, Lord Beecher requests an audience.”

“Wonderful, show him in.”

Robson jumped to his feet and moved to stand behind Shillinger. “I cannot wait to hear his excuses.”

“I want you to remain silent, do you understand? I am quite curious to hear what he has to say. Pour him a glass of wine.”

Shillinger settled back into his chair, exhausted from the journey but feeling a rush of anticipation as he waited for his nemesis.

Beecher came into the room, bowing stiffly. “Lord Shillinger.”

Vernon smiled. The man kept his manners, at least. “Please, sit, have a glass of wine.”

After a pause, Beecher took the chair vacated by Robson, but waved away the wine. “I have come as a show of respect, I will not be long.”

Shillinger smiled and tilted his glass in the other’s direction.

“Firstly, I am appalled at the conditions in which I found Sir Keller. I cannot believe that our Royal Majesty, whom Keller calls friend, would wish him kept thusly.”

“He had a room, until he tried to escape!” James pounded the table, earning an annoyed look from Vernon.

“James, let Lord Beecher finish – you have had your say.”

“I will be brief.” Beecher stood and moved behind his chair, his hand gripping the polished wood tightly. “Picking flowers for a little girl is not an attempt at escape, neither is taking a few moments to wash the remains of a case of food poisoning from his body. I believe his being kept in the servants quarters is quite in meeting the standards of punishment for a man of his stature.”

“Anything else?” Vernon kept a whisper of smile on his lips, not letting the other man see how much he was enjoying this, knowing that at any moment he could send Keller back to the dungeon, and knowing that Beecher knew this as well.

“The medicines here at the castle are inadequate, though through no fault of the earnest efforts of the good servants here. Neither was there anyone to be found in Warwickshire, so I have sent for the healing lady from my family home.”

Vernon’s eyes narrowed. “And who have you sent? That cur of an Irishman, O’Reily?”

Beecher nodded. “He is delivering a message to her now; I hope she will be here in a few days time. The Queen may be unhappy with Chris- with Sir Keller, right now, but I do not believe she will be pleased to hear if he becomes gravely ill.”

Robson began to speak, but was silenced by Vernon, who stood and moved to the other side of the table, laughing to himself at Beecher’s discomfort as he put his arm around the man’s shoulder.

“I will allow things to continue as they have. There is no need to raise the ire of Elizabeth, or to be inhospitable to any guests.” He turned them both, walking toward the door, Beecher stiff beside him. At the door he bowed to Beecher. “Tell Sir Keller I was distressed to learn I had missed his arrival, and I will be along to greet him shortly.”

He ignored the scowl of distrust this comment earned him and softly closed the door. He turned back, finding Robson open-mouthed and red-faced. He laughed out loud at his incredulous expression.

“What was that? How can you be so amiable to them? Beecher came in and usurped my power, tried to help Keller escape again –”

He stopped when Vernon held his hand up. “Viscount Beecher is your better, there is no power for him to usurp. As for the escape attempts, I have no doubt that if Christopher Keller has wished to escape, he would have. Now, do not look so dismayed, let us have something to eat. You,” he commanded, turning to the young boy waiting at the door, “go to my room and bring the small green bag in my traveling pouch.”

The boy left and Vernon sat back down, stretching his legs in front of him with a groan. “I have brought you some of the pastries from that bakery on Richer Street you admire so well, so now sit and do not worry. Having Keller imprisoned here, at my mercy, is revenge enough for me...for now.” He poured another glass of wine and drank half of it down. “We must be subtle...do not worry.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Tobias returned to their room, finding Christopher as he had left him, in an uneasy sleep, his breathing becoming more troubled every hour, his skin hot and dry.

Tobias pulled off his jerkin to get to the hated collar around his neck. He had worn his best clothes as a sign of respect for Lord Shillinger, the pomposity and insincerity of it worrying at him the whole time. Not to mention how uncomfortable the collar and heavy fabric of the jerkin were.

He noted a bucket of water had been left, and he took it and a small cloth to the front of the small fire. Stripping the rest of his clothes off, he wet the cloth and rubbed it over his naked body, wiping the discomfort of his meeting with Vernon from himself.

When he was done washing, he raised his arms over head and bent his body to each side. He took a walk every day, but the sedentary life he had been living since arriving at Warwick had him itching and restless for more physical activity.

He could have been a master of his farm, as many others in his same position were, by giving orders through his foreman and living a gentleman’s life. But he preferred to be out where the men were working, not only to keep an eye on them – his man John was quite capable of keeping things running smoothly and productively – but to be involved in the upkeep of his own well-being. If not in the fields or orchards, he would be in the storerooms or in his office, going over the finances.

He realized that, even though his personal life at home was miserable, he missed the farm and the company of the people who worked for him. He sighed - how much must Christy miss his life?

“I enjoy this view much more than the one I was afforded while chained in my cell.”

Tobias jumped, startled. He turned and found Christopher watching him, his head turned on the pillow and his cracked lips forming a pleased smile.

Tobias smiled in return, relieved that Christopher felt good enough to tease him. This morning, he had left O’Reily to watch after the patient while he took his walk, and when he returned the Irishman had been distressed.

“He is so hot, Beecher, is this common?”

Beecher had to tell him that sadly, it was.

They had cooled him down and Greta was soon there with more medicine, but when O’Reily left not long after, Christopher had not been awake to say farewell.

Christopher held out his hand, and Tobias took it. “Will you come to bed?”

“ ’tis early for bed, is it not?”

“Bolt the door and spend some time with me.”

Tobias moved about the room, locking the door and collecting a bottle of wine and a few biscuits, hoping to get Christopher to eat a bit – he had lost more weight in the last few days and Tobias grew more worried.

Before getting into bed himself, he broke off a piece of the biscuit, frowning when Christopher refused it. He did take a drink of wine, though, with Tobias holding the cup to his trembling lips.

He climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around the heated body from behind.

“Shillinger has arrived.” It was not a question. “You have been to see him.”

“How did you know?” Tobias hated hearing that man’s name spoken in this bed.

“I saw your collar lying on the floor - you would not bother with that finery for any other reason.”

“We spoke for a few minutes. He was very calm and civilized, he did not seem intent on causing us any trouble.”

“Of course not. He will gain his revenge somehow, letting us wait and worry until he does.”

The men lay silently in the growing darkness, each with their own unspoken thoughts.

“I should unlock the door – someone will be bringing dinner soon.”

“Leave it.” Christopher’s hand found that of Tobias and tightly gripped it. “I want no one else but you tonight.”

An ache weighed on his chest as Tobias heard the need in Christy’s voice. They would not have much more time like this, he knew, as did Christopher.

They lay together long into the night, dozing and speaking softly when awake, sending the servants away when they came knocking.

Tobias was on the verge of sleep, now on his back with Christopher’s head resting on his chest, when he felt a soft shaking of the body under his arm.

“Christy?” he whispered. “Are you ill?”

“No.” The answer was whispered in a voice rough and broken, and he felt a dampness against his skin and he knew Christopher was crying.

He stroked the dark head with one hand while the rubbed slow circles on the heated back. He said nothing, waiting.

“This is not how it should be, Toby. Perhaps our love is indeed a sin.”

“What?” Tobias was sure he had misheard.

Christopher’s fingers curled tight on Tobias’ arm. He looked up, his red, wet eyes glistened in the lamp light and were full of a doubt and fear Tobias had not since in them before. Not since that day he had returned from his first battle.

“Think of it – I declare my love for you and now I suffer, ill and in the hands of my worst enemies. You do not know how fitting this is.”

“Fitting? What do you mean?”

Christopher seemed not to hear him. “I am being punished for involving you in my wicked ways.”

Tobias gaped; he had never heard Christy talk like this. He pushed at the man, bewildered and disheartened, and struggled to sit up. Christopher rolled off of him and Tobias turned up the lamp.

“Are you mad?” He stared intently down into the sad face. “You have always said you would receive your judgment on the day of your death, what has changed?”

“You.” Christopher’s eyes overflowed as he took Tobias’ hand and held it tight. “I am leading you into sin, destroying your marriage. You are a good and gentle man, Toby, my sweet Toby, and your life will be in ruins if you stay with me. I am being punished for what I am doing.”

“I am my own man, you are not responsible for my life or choices. As for my marriage, you know it has been over for many years. As for the other, I will do as you have decreed – I will wait for God to decide my fate.”

Tobias lowered the lamp and lay back down and pulled the weeping man into his arms. “It is your illness speaking these words, Christy, just as it happened last time. Please, let us wait and speak of this again when you are well. That is all that matters – I will see you well, then we can speak of God and sin.”

He held his love until he calmed - when Christopher finally fell asleep Tobias let himself do the same.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Vernon sat at the window, waiting until he saw Beecher leave for the walk the servants had told him he took every morning. He looked at himself in the mirror, pleased with what he saw. He was dressed fully, with an elaborate lace collar, silk and lace doublet and a large chain of rubies laying on his chest; he would look his best when confronting the man that murdered his son. He sent one of the servants to make sure Keller was awake and alone, and soon followed behind him.

In the room, Keller was sitting at the table, a fur cloak about his shoulders, but his feet bare – he had not enough warning to fully prepare himself, as Shillinger planned.

The two men stared at each other. They had seen each other at court a time or two since Harold’s death, but had not spoken since the meeting with Elizabeth when she ruled the death an accident.

Keller finally pushed himself to his feet, and Shillinger could see him tremble when he took his hands away to hold himself straight; Keller bowed his head. “M’lord.” His face and voice gave away nothing.

“Sir Keller, it has been a long time.”

“Indeed, m’lord.”

“Please, sit. I hear you have been ill.” And he did look so. His face was pale, though bright spots of fever burned on his sunken cheeks. And though he could not see his body, Vernon had the impression the knight had lost much weight since the last time they had been together.

“I have seen better days,” Keller allowed.

Shillinger looked around the room, half the size of his sitting room. “Was there nothing larger available to you?”

Keller gazed steadily. “It is far better than my last lodging, and I am happy here. It suits Beecher and I fine.”

Shillinger sneered inwardly. It was a disgrace to stay in servant’s quarters when there were other rooms available. For a prisoner, it was appropriate, but Beecher should have used his authority and insisted on being treated in the manner he deserved.

Apparently, his father’s high regard of himself had not transferred to the son. The elder Beecher could not lower himself to help Shillinger in his business venture, and had done what he could to sway the court from voting him on to the Queen’s counsel.

But Beecher’s loyalty, to sink so far beneath his standings, caused Shillinger to feel contempt for the man. He pulled a chair from the table and sat down. “I understand Beecher has done much interfering in my absence. I see that you and he are still close friends.”

Before Keller could answer, a great shiver wracked his body. He pulled the fur closer around his body and spoke; Vernon could now hear weariness in the man’s voice.

“Lord Beecher and I have been friends since we were boys. We watch out for each other, as we always have.”

“Yes, I seem to recall you mentioned him many times during the days we spent together in battle.”

“What do you want, Shillinger?” The question was a low hiss.

“Why do you think I want anything from you, Keller?” Shillinger smiled widely and stood up, walking about the room. “What could I possibly want from the man who killed my son?”

Keller’s jaw clenched, but after a pause he shook his head sadly. “I wish I could take back that hour, I wish it all gone, but I did not press the blade in murderous intent.” Keller’s eyes were beseeching as he spoke. “As everyone who witnessed the sad deed testified, I did not want the fight, not then, when the boy was drunk. He deserved punishment for what he did to Cyril O’Reily, but not in that way. I am sorry.”

“Is that what you are waiting for, an apology from me?” Keller’s look of confusion did not fool Vernon. “Your assault on my boy was revenge for that night long ago, on the battlefield of Baymoore.”

Keller’s eyes grew dark and his breathing labored. “Harold was innocent in that act, I would not hold him accountable.”

“Bah!” Vernon pointed his finger at Keller. “You saw your chance and took it! With the drawing of your knife you gained your revenge for the loss of sanity of your dirty Irish friend and the loss of innocence of the boy you once were.”

Keller’s lip curled. “Do not flatter yourself, I was no innocent, only innocent of that one act. And yes, I regretted it and hated you for it, but my hatred had ebbed by the time we all came together for that fateful day at court.” He tried to stand, but another great chill passed through and he sunk back down. “I, Sir,” he said harshly, through teeth now chattering, “am not the type to take advantage of a young boy when he is incapacitated, whether by drink or cold and hunger and fear.”

Vernon stared Keller down. Oh, if he thought he could get away with it, the bastard would be lying dead in the woods within the hour.

“You will be careful how you speak to me!” He stood by the bed, staring down, seething, until he noted the pillows on the bed were close together, in the middle, as though for one person, not two.

He turned, staring thoughtfully at Keller, who was now bent over the table, coughing dryly. Were the two friends now more? Is this why Beecher chose to share a meager servant’s room with a sick man, one in the Queen’s disfavor? It was truly an act beyond friendship. Perhaps there was a better way to get to Keller.

“How fares Beecher’s wife – I do not recall her name, though I do recall her beauty when I saw her many years ago.”

Keller looked up at him through hooded eyes – he was swaying slightly in his chair, and Vernon realized how difficult it was for the man to be sitting up. But of course, Keller’s pride would not let him receive a visit while in bed.

“She is fine, I believe.”

Vernon moved back to the table and sat down. “Beecher was quite lucky to find such a mate, was he not? James Robson told me how he had been seeking the lady’s hand.”

Keller scoffed. “He had no chance with a woman of such culture and means.”

“Oh, perhaps. He and Beecher were of similar title.”

“Before his family lost it.”

“Yes, yes, a very unfortunate event, and part of the reason James is so resentful of Tobias. If he had been given Genevieve’s hand, he would have been able to save his family.”

“So Robson blames Toby for his family’s disgrace?” Keller laughed, and this set off another fit of coughing, while Vernon made note of the Keller’s use of the name ‘Toby’…a term of affection, perhaps? When recovered, Keller continued, his voice now rough and low. “He could never have won the hand of Genevieve, no matter his title. Her father would never have permitted it, even if she had begged for it to happen.”

“Again, perhaps. But we shall never know, shall we?” Vernon smiled sympathetically. “It is unfortunate that she never gave Beecher a son, or any heir for that matter, is it not?”

Keller’s head had bowed, and when he lifted it, Vernon saw his face was even more ashen than before and his eyes glowed bright.

“I am done talking about Beecher.”

Shillinger ignored him and nodded toward the bed. “I see Beecher dares share a bed with you. I assume that he is assured your illness prevents you from pursuing your sinful buggery?”

“When you speak thusly, you speak of yourself as well.”

Vernon leaned over the table, his face close to Keller’s, a sneering smile twisting his lips. “I know the sweet taste of a virgin ass – can you say the same of Beecher? Or would I find his legs have not yet spread for another, as I found you at Baymoore?” Vernon jumped back when Keller’s fists slammed to the table, but regained himself quickly. “You say you two are such good friends – would he do anything for you, do you think?”

Keller glared at Vernon, his body shaking, in anger or illness, Vernon could not say. “Do not speak of him.” Keller stood. “Do not speak of him!” His shout brought about more coughing, and he sank back into his chair.

Vernon was delighted by this turn of events. Whether or not Beecher truly had succumbed to Keller, or they were still merely friends, Keller was as protective of the man as any brother for brother. Vernon had found his revenge.

“I shall leave now, Sir Keller. I believe you should seek your bed. I will send someone in for you.”

Keller remained silent as Vernon bowed and turned to the door, which opened just as he reached for it.

Beecher stood there, surprise on his face. “What do you want?” He looked to Keller and concern quickly changed his features. He looked back to Vernon, waiting.

“That is not a very respectful greeting, is it, Lord Beecher?”

“Your pardon, my lord.” Beecher bowed his head. “Is there anything I can do for you?” He looked again at Keller and Vernon could see how badly he wanted to go to the man.

“I am done here, Lord Beecher.” Vernon bowed in Keller’s direction. “I only came to make my greetings to the knight here, and see if he needed anything.” He frowned in apparent concern. “He seems to be feeling quite unwell – as I told him, I will send someone.”

“Thank you, but no need.” Beecher moved further into the room, stopping next to Keller. “I sent the boy that was walking with me to fetch Greta. She has been attending Sir Keller as well as she is able.”

“But we anxiously await the arrival of the servant girl from your good mother’s household, do we not?”

“We do.”

Vernon kept his smile to himself when he saw Beecher’s hand moved toward Keller’s shoulder, then pull back, pushing into his jacket pocket instead.

“Then, good day gentlemen.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

“What did he want?” As soon as Shillinger had left Tobias was helping Keller to bed. He held a dipper of water for him and repeated the question.

Keller lay down with a sigh, his body trembling with effort it had taken him to get through his confrontation with Shillinger.

“He wanted to make sure I knew he was in control here. He wanted to revel in the fact that he had the murderer of his son in his charge.”

Tobias pulled a chair close to the bed and took his lover’s hand. “But he made no threat, no mention toward revenge? If he does, I will petition the Queen once more, and mayhap she will realize what a mistake she has made.”

Keller squeezed his hand and shook his head. “No, no threats, Toby, do not worry.”

Tobias thought perhaps Christopher’s eyes did not assure him as much as his words, but he let it pass as a knock came at the door. After Greta tended to him, he would have Keller sleep and recover from his unpleasant morning.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

That evening, Peter came to the room, delivering a message from Shillinger that he wished Beecher to join him after dinner.

“Do you know what this is about?” Beecher kept his voice low, but Keller had not seemed to notice the knock at the door. His fever was running hotter than ever after Shillinger’s visit, and he often seemed to not know his surroundings. Beecher could only keep as comfortable as possible and pray for Ryan and Glory to arrive.

“No, m’lord, only that he wishes you to dress.”

Beecher sent the boy back with his response that he would be there, then fell into a chair, rubbing at his eyes. What could the man want? And why the need to dress formerly? Another move to show them who was in charge, Tobias had no doubt.

He went to Keller and ran his hand over his cheek, despairing at the heat beneath his palm. Keller’s eyes were open but he did not respond. With a sigh, Beecher left him and began collecting the clothes he had worn the day before for Shillinger’s arrival, now cleaned and smoothed.

Later that evening, with Percy and Mary tending a sleeping Christopher, Tobias met with Shillinger.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

“I have a proposal for you, Beecher.”

“M’lord.” Beecher bowed.

“When Sir Keller is well, and I have no doubt your foreign wench can manage the job – her skill is known throughout the kingdom - I see no reason for him to remain free from his previous cell.”

Beecher’s eyes widened. “Why? What is the reasoning?”

“It is obvious, is it not?” Vernon walked a slow circle around other man. “He is a prisoner and prisoner’s belong in prison cells.”

Beecher stared ahead, trying to remain calm, Vernon knew, but his hands were clenched and the vein in his forehead was prominent in his rage. “He was kept in a comfortable apartment while at the Tower, placed there by the Queen herself.”

“Yes, but he had not tried to escape while under the Queen’s keeping.”

Beecher’s voice shook. “He did not try to escape and I know you understand that.”

Vernon returned to his chair at the top of the room. “Come, let us sit.” He motioned to the chair next to him.

“I would rather not.”

Vernon leaned forward and stamped his foot. “I would rather you did,” his voice brooking no disobedience.

Beecher hesitated, but finally took the few halting steps to join Vernon, sitting in a chair to his side.

“What I propose is simply a few hours of your company.”

“What do you mean?” Confusion and mistrust joined the impatience evident on Beecher’s face.

“I am lacking in civilized company here, Beecher. Robson is a good man and a loyal one, but his tastes run a little more to the street than suits me. He is good for a game of cards or dice – what I long for is a decent conversation. Besides, he will be leaving soon with his friends. What say you? An hour of your time each evening, and Keller remains where he is.”

“Keller will never allow it.”

“Is that so?” Vernon’s brow rose. “And does Keller decide your actions?”

“No.” Beecher spat the word. “But he will not let me debase myself on his account.”

Vernon could hardly suppress his smile. “Spending an hour with me is a debasement?”

Beecher remained silent, and Vernon reached out, putting his hand on Beecher’s leg. Beecher stiffened at the touch, but stayed silent.

“One hour an evening, starting tomorrow, after Keller has gone to sleep, if you wish. He need never know of our clandestine meetings. What say you?”

Beecher stood, his jaw clenched tightly and lips quivering in his rage and frustration; Vernon could barely suppress his glee. “One hour an evening, and Keller will not know.”

Vernon stood and bowed. “I promise to never tell him.”

Beecher nodded and left.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

During the next several days, Tobias sat vigil by Keller’s side, keeping his body covered and his face wiped cool. He seldom came fully conscious, and when he did he worried if Tobias was not by his side. Once, he came into the room to see Keller grabbing at young Percy, begging him to find Toby, to make sure Shillinger did not have him. Tobias had stopped short, thinking perhaps Christopher had learned of his visits with the Count. But even if he had been told, he would not have been able to fully understand – it was just the fever, and the fear of Shillinger’s revenge that was giving him nightmares.

Beecher had gone three times now to see Shillinger, and the man had kept to his word, keeping Tobias only an hour and doing nothing other than asking his opinion and sharing his own on matters such as religion and finance. It seemed like nothing more that what Shillinger had told him – he simply wanted an hour of companionship and conversation. But he was not to be trusted, and Beecher had not only Keller to worry about, but also Shillinger, wondering when his true intentions would be revealed.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Vernon watched the dark-skinned servant; she sat with her head held proudly, but he could see the nervousness in her eyes, and in the way she twisted the kerchief in her hands. He narrowed his eyes as he took in the finely made riding clothes she wore, and the pearls in her ears. A servant – and a foreign one at that – treated so finely was a sin against decent society.

She should not even be in this room, waiting on Beecher like a proper visitor. Her place was in the servant’s quarters, with that boy that had ridden in with her.

He pressed his fingertips together, tapping at his chin while he admired her long black hair, kept in a thick strand by gold threads woven around it. He wondered what that hair would look like loose and flowing…caught between his fingers…the woman on her knees before him. That was where she belonged, that was her place. He smiled broadly and saw the wench’s eyes widen as she watched him beneath her long lashes; he wondered if the elder Beecher had ever taken advantage of this beauty he had in his home. More likely that Tobias had known her pleasure, growing up together as they did.

No, her place was not here, but he would remain ever civil toward Beecher, keeping him where he wanted him.

A moment later the Viscount arrived, and he could see the relief wash over the young woman. Beecher nearly ran to her, stopping himself to bow in Shillinger’s direction before taking Glory into his arms.

“Oh, my dear sister, how I have missed you. Thank you for coming.”

Vernon hid his distaste as Beecher addressed the servant as ‘sister.’

“It was a long ride, but nothing I have not done many times with your good mother, serving the people of the villages. Is Sir Keller nearby?”

“Are you anxious to leave my company, my dear?” Vernon stood, smiling sweetly at the two friends.

Glory curtsied low to the castle warden. “ I appreciate your hospitality, my lord, but I do wish to see my patient.”

Her patient, as though she were a trained doctor of Britain. “Of course, you may go.” Vernon motioned to the boy standing at the door. “Find that housekeeper and have her attend our guest and collect what she needs.”

Glory bowed. “I would also ask that someone fetch the boy that came with me and have my bags from the stable to Sir Keller’s room.”

Vernon nodded at the boy. “Do it.”

“You brought a servant?” Beecher was asking of Glory.

She nodded. “Sir Keller’s boy, Ronald. He very much wished to come – I could see no reason why he should not.”

“No, no reason.”

But Vernon could see something on the man’s face, something that made him think that there was indeed a reason Beecher might not wish the boy to be here.

“Well, then, you should be off. I hope you will send word to me about Sir Keller’s condition when you are through.”

Glory nodded. “Of course, m’lord, I will—”

Shillinger held up his hand to stop her. “I believe Lord Beecher will deliver the news, will you not, Beecher?”

Beecher stiffened and his face hardened. “I think perhaps I will be busy this evening. I will send one of the servants, if it please you.”

Shillinger smiled graciously. “Of course, whatever you wish.” He looked to the girl. “You may go now. There should be a man in the hall to show you the way.”

Glory curtsied and left the room, looking worried when Beecher did not follow.

Shillinger continued. “You may do whatever you wish, Lord Beecher, you are not the prisoner here. But I rest assured you remember our agreement.”

Beecher grew agitated. “You cannot mean to hold me to that this evening!”

Shillinger leaned back in his chair, grinning smugly. “That I do.”

Beecher stood a moment, his anger leaving him speechless. Without a word, he turned and stormed from the room.

Back in his room, Beecher found Glory already examining Christopher’s leg. Ronald stood by his side, and with a pang of what he could not deny was jealousy noted the boy was clutching his hand. Keller had not woken all day, though he was moving restlessly.

“How does he look?” Tobias came up beside Glory, resting a hand on her back.

“There is much infection, but I think I can do enough to help.” She cast a pensive glance to the patient then back to Tobias. “There is much dead skin and infection to be cut out. It will be painful for him.”

“And this is causing his fever?”

Glory nodded.

“And what of his cough?”

“It is probably the infection traveling through his body. Hopefully the cough will leave with the fever.”

Tobias’ chest ached as he thought about what lay ahead. “Let us begin.”

“I am waiting for the housekeeper to bring some items.” At that, there was knock and Greta and Mary came in, carrying a tray and water.

The table was pulled closer to the bed, and Glory lay out the items she would be using; Tobias turned away at the sight of knives and scissors.

Greta was handed a small bottle and cloth. “This will help muddle the pain,” Glory instructed. “Keep the cloth over his nose and moisten it every few minutes.” She pointed at Ronald. “I need you here with me.”

The boy reluctantly let go of Christopher’s hand and moved to the end of the bed.

“I’ll need you to hold his leg,” she told the servant. “It is very important he be kept still.”

Tobias watched worriedly as Glory instructed everyone. “What can I do to help?”

Glory smiled reassuringly. “Stand by him and comfort him.”

Tobias took the place that Ronald had recently moved from, across from Greta. Glory nodded and Greta applied the cloth to Christopher’s face. Tobias took both his hands and held tight.

Later, when all was done, all who had been in the room were limp with exhaustion. Christopher had become conscious soon after Glory began, but was out of his mind with the fever. He yelled and flung his arms and legs about, until Tobias finally had to tie his limbs to the bed to still him. He moved to help Ronald – even tied, Christopher’s leg shook so that Glory could hardly work.

Poor Mary was so distraught that Tobias sent her from the room to bring back the strongest drink in the castle. After managing to get some of the brandy down Christopher’s throat – with Greta holding his head still – Mary poured a cup for Tobias at his order.

When the wound was packed and wrapped, and everything cleaned, Mary left in tears. Greta left with her, chastising her behavior, while at the same time stroking the girl’s hair. Ronald was sent after them to bring food back for Glory.

She was wiping the sweat from Christopher’s face and moistening his lips with a damp cloth. He had fallen back in unconsciousness just as Glory finished, to the relief of all.

Tobias poured each of them a cup of the weaker ale that was in the room, and made her sit with him at the table. She took the drink with shaking hands and a tired ‘thank you.’

“I shall tell you, Glory, men will brag and boast of how strong they are, but I do not know if many of those that have such physical strength would have it in them to do what you have done here…what you have done for years”

“It is hard, sometimes, as today was.” She took another drink and then reached for Tobias’ hand. “I have a favor to ask of you, and I know you will be reluctant to do it.”

“Anything, little sister.” Tobias took her hand in both of his.

“Ryan waits for me Warwickshire. I told him I would most likely spend the night here, but I know he will worry, wondering if I had tried to return and met with harm on the road. And I know he is anxious to hear word of Keller.”

Tobias looked to Keller, wanting nothing more than to climb into the bed and hold him, even though the man would not know he was there.

“I would wish to be here when he wakes, but of course I will go for you.”

Glory moved from her chair to hug her friend. “I am hopeful he will sleep through the night, and I will be here by his side. I will have Mary stay with me. She is a sweet thing, is she not?”

“She is,” Tobias agreed. And if Mary and Glory were staying with Christy, it would be improper for Ronald to stay in the room, as he knew he would want. Tobias wondered at himself and his jealousy toward this boy. He had never felt such feelings where Genevieve was involved, even when their love was new and he was aware of the many men vying for her hand. Of course, he had also known that none of them had shared her bed as Ronald had with Christopher.

“I will leave soon, before it is fully dark. But take a moment and tell me of my family – are my parents well, and is there any news from Angus?”

Glory assured him all was good with his parents and their estate and village had been bountiful this harvest. This brought a pang of guilt to Tobias, as he had left home in the midst of the harvest, when every person was needed most. But he soon was smiling when learning that he was to be an uncle, yet again. He may not have given any grandchildren to his parents, but his brother more than made up for it – this would be his fifth child, after three sons and a daughter.

“And my home? Have you seen my wife?” Tobias grew alarmed when Glory hesitated, and her eyes left his face. “What is it?”

Glory went to check on Christopher, avoiding looking at Tobias. “Your harvest was successful, Tobias, and your father met with John to make sure all was handled as he knew you would wish.”

“And my wife?” Tobias’ heart began pounding; there was no love left between them, but if he had left her when she needed him he would forever feel guilty.

“She is fine.” Glory turned toward him, a forced smile on her face. “She was feeling a bit ill, and I went to see her. In fact, I was at your home when Ryan came for me. That is how Ronald came to be with us, and why we did not leave immediately to come here.”

“I care not about Ronald, Glory!” Tobias stood and went to the woman, holding her by the arms, taking care to be gentle with her. “How is my wife?”

“She is fine, as I said, big brother.” Her beautiful brown eyes moved over his face, and Tobias thought he saw pity in them. “Ryan will tell you all.” She moved from his hold and back to the table to sit. “I am very tired, Tobias. I would like to eat and then sleep.”

Tobias knew she was avoiding the subject of Genevieve, but he would soon get his answers from Ryan. He went to Christopher and took his hand, his relief great at the peace in which Christopher now slept. He bent and placed a quick kiss on the still warm forehead. He looked to Glory, but she was looking away, on purpose or not, he did not know. She had been the only person in which he had confided the change of his relationship with Keller. She had been taken aback, and was concerned over the hardships it would bring, but finally had held him and kissed his cheek and told him all she cared about was his happiness.

Tobias answered the knock on the door – it was Ronald with the tray of food and Percy and Peter followed with a mattress and Mary behind them, carrying bedding.

“Thank you all.” Glory admired the food on the tray as the mattress was laid out and the three servants of Warwick fitted the linen to it. Ronald had gone to Christopher’s side, holding his hand and stroking his forehead. Tobias thought it highly impudent of the boy, but said nothing.

As the other servants made ready to leave, Glory spoke to the girl. “Mary, I wish you to spend the night with me. Lord Beecher will be gone this evening, so it will be up to you and I to tend Sir Keller.”

Mary nodded, seeming pleased to be able to do this. “I will let Greta know, m’lady, and be back.”

As she left, Ronald turned to Tobias. “M’lord, I thought I might be able to spend the night with my master.”

Tobias tried to hide his impatience. “Wait for me in the hall.”

Ronald opened his mouth to reply, but saw the look on Beecher’s face and thought better of it. With a sorrowful look to Keller, he left.

Glory lightly touched Tobias on the cheek. “He is mightily smitten with our knight.”

“I know it, and it rubs me wrong.” Tobias found his traveling bag and made sure it held money and his knife, and he took an empty skin and filled it with the wine from Glory’s table. “I am sorry, you will have to get more.”

“I will drink no more spirits – I need my wits in case Christopher should wake.”

“I shall go then, after seeing Shillinger.”

Glory stopped him as he moved toward the door. “How has it been, with Shillinger here? Ryan told me you had words with Robson but he was leaving you alone. Shillinger cannot be doing the same?”

Tobias shook head. “No. It seems as though he is, but we suspect he has a reason for his civil behavior. He will not pass up this opportunity to gain his revenge on Keller.” He did not think it necessary to tell her of Shillinger’s requested meetings. He kissed the top of the maiden’s head. “You eat and rest, and hold my eternal gratitude in your heart.”

“Tomorrow we shall know if that gratitude has been earned.”

Tobias left the room, eager to finish his meeting with Shillinger and meet with O’Reily; he was stopped in his tracks by Ronald, jumping to his feet from the bench outside the door.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Shillinger came around the corner through the long hallways of the servant’s quarters, stopping when he saw Beecher and the servant boy who had come with Glory. He pressed himself against a doorway; the lamps had not yet been lit and the shadows were deep enough to hide him as he listened.

“I am sorry you are disappointed, but you cannot spend the night in the same room with two maids!”

Beecher moved to leave, but was stopped when Ronald gripped his sleeve. “Please, may I sit with him now, just for a minute.”

Beecher slowly and firmly pushed the boy’s hand from his arm. “You can find the housekeeper Greta and see what you can do to help about the castle tonight. Sir Keller will sleep through the night if we are lucky – there would be no reason for you to see him.”

Beecher left, Vernon guessing he was headed toward his own room, daring not to miss an appointment.

Ronald stood a moment, his head bowed, before turning the opposite way. As he passed the doorway where Vernon stood, he looked up in surprise and Vernon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I did not mean to startle you, boy.”

“No, Sir, you did not. I mean, yes, but it is no matter.” Ronald bowed deeply.

“I am in need of some firewood, and assistance in my evening ritual tonight. I would like you to attend to me.”

“Me, Sir?” Ronald looked up, his eyes wide and startled and even fearful.

“You,” Vernon answered sternly. “Go now and let the housekeeper know you will be occupied and then bring an arm of firewood to my quarters.”

“Yes, Sir.” And the boy took off at a run.

Vernon smiled after him and turned to follow Beecher.

He found the man in his ante-chamber, waiting. “Going somewhere?” Vernon asked, pointing at Beecher’s bag.

“I am spending the night in Warwickshire.”

“I see. To catch up with your good friend O’Reily, no doubt?”

Beecher remained silent.

“How is Keller?”

“Glory was successful, but we will not be certain of anything until Keller awakes.”

The two continued standing, facing each other, Vernon’s smile growing wider at Beecher’s growing discomfort.

“Are we going in?” Beecher finally asked through clenched teeth.

Vernon could not help a laugh, which only caused Beecher to grow even angrier. “Go on, then, and have fun with that witless O’Reily. He should be grateful for his brother’s present state – now they can interact as equals.”

Beecher was fairly shaking with his rage by now, and Vernon marveled at his control to simply turn and leave the room. “Send my fondest regards!”

Vernon pointed at his dressing boy, sitting quietly in the corner. “Is there food and wine inside?”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Good. You are free this evening.” He tossed a coin, which the boy caught despite his shock at the gesture. “Do not return until morning.”

Vernon moved into the bedroom, and sat at the table in the sitting area, picking at the bread and cheese there until there was an awkward thump on the door. “Enter.”

There was a pause before the door opened and Ronald entered, juggling the pieces of wood in his arms.

“Put it down with the rest.”

Ronald moved to the fireplace and placed the wood there, looking confused at the box already full.

Vernon stood up and moved toward his bed, motioning to the boy to follow him. “Undress me,” he ordered without preamble.

Ronald hesitated, startled by the command, but gathered himself quickly and began by unlacing Vernon’s doublet sleeves from the bodice, before moving to the many buttons. As he moved lower, undoing the buttons on his hose and pulling the stockings from his legs, Vernon felt a stirring in his loins. It had been a log time since he had known the pleasure of a young lad, and this one especially pleased him - it did not escape his attention how this boy resembled his master.

Vernon remained silent until he was wrapped in his dressing gown. He motioned to the table. “Please sit. Are you hungry?”

“I...” Ronald stuttered, even more confused. He took a seat, his body almost vibrating with nervousness.

Vernon moved behind him, resting his hands on the young shoulders. “I understand Sir Keller has been your master for quite some time.”

“Yes, Sir,” the answer almost a whisper.

“He is a good master?” Vernon’s fingers curled and Ronald stiffened at the pressure.

“Yes, Sir, very good.”

Vernon took a seat close to Ronald. He ate a grape, pointing to the plate. “You are not eating?”

Ronald shook his head. “No, thank you.”

“Here, they are delicious.” Vernon took a piece of the fruit and held it to the boy’s mouth, slowly pushing it between his lips, letting his fingers linger.

Vernon hid his smile at the flush of color on the servant’s face and poured two glasses of wine. “Here, I insist. I hate to drink alone.”

Ronald took a tentative sip from his goblet, coughing at the strong taste – it was nothing like the ale the servant was used to – but at Vernon’s urging he took another, then another.

“Tell me your name, boy.”

“My name is Ronald, Sir.”

“Ronald. How did you come to be with your master?”

“He found me begging in the streets of London and took me in.”

To Vernon’s delight, Ronald’s eyes filled with tears – emotions could be used against him.

“He has been so good to me.” Ronald looked down and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Here, have some more wine.” Vernon saw the boy look to the plate of food, but did not offer any more – the wine would work quicker without. “Why do you cry, Ronald?” He patted the boy’s hand.

“I fear I have lost my place with my lord.”

“That may be true, as he is now a prisoner and may be for a long time.”

“But it is not only that. Even before...” He trailed off with a sniff.

“And why is that? Has he discharged you from his service?”

“Oh, no, I was with him even while he was kept at the Tower. But the Queen separated us when he came here...and now...” He paused to run his sleeve across his nose and drain his cup; Vernon quickly refilled it.

“And now?” Vernon moved his chair closer and put his arm around the boy’s shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling of the strong muscles beneath his hand.

Ronald looked up, and his expression cleared. “Oh, I should not be speaking against Sir Keller, or any of his friends. Please, Sir, I should not.”

“Of course, of course. Let us speak of happier times with Sir Keller, shall we?”

Ronald eyed him suspiciously. “I thought you hated my master.”

“Oh, of course there are bad feelings between us, but I am trying to make things right.” Vernon smiled. “I realize the death of my son was an accident.” The words almost stuck in Vernon’s throat, but he took a drink and continued. “That is why I let Keller stay where he is, and have allowed his visitors. I wish him to know I have forgiven him.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “And now, I would like to hear of happier times between the two of you.”

For the next several minutes, Vernon listened and kept Ronald’s cup filled while the boy talked about the years after he and Keller met, sometimes traveling with him to court or jousting competitions, or otherwise staying at his London home, waiting for him to return from battles, sometimes even spending time at the home of Keller’s father. Soon, the boy was leaning against Shillinger and slurring his words.

“So,” Vernon encouraged, “you have had many good times together – but now?”

The boy was so drunk he would have fallen from his chair if Vernon had not been holding him.

“Now, now Sir Beecher has become more important than me!” There was an edge of anger to his tone that delighted Vernon.

“I understand that Keller and Beecher have been best friends for many years.”

Ronald nodded his head. “But now, there is more, and Beecher does not like me anymore and he will soon be taking my place in my master’s bed! My master has not touched me since Beecher’s visit in the spring.”

If his hands had not been holding the boy, Vernon would have clapped them in glee. He had been right about the two, and now had proof. And in addition, he had this young, jealous boy to aid him in his plans. He could not have asked for anything better.

“Perhaps he has already?” Vernon coaxed sympathetically.

“Perhaps.” And the boy began sobbing. “But...but...maybe not,” he sniffed. “I...I...should not…I should not say more.”

“Go ahead, you can confide in me.” Vernon wiped the tears from Ronald’s face and stroked his head, and he thought of that freezing night on the fields of Baymoore when he had comforted another dark-haired boy. He rested his hand on the boy’s thigh and his cock began to harden.

Ronald looked up at him, confusion coloring his brilliant, wet eyes; Vernon knew he wanted to talk, but did not want to betray his master. He didn’t realize that he had already put his master in harm’s way by confessing Keller slept with men, a crime sometimes punishable by death. He pulled the boy into his arms and whispered against his head. “Maybe I can help you to find your way back to your master.”

Ronald took a deep breath and another drink from his always-full cup. “I delivered letters between Sir Keller and Lord Beecher...and...I read them.” The last words were spoken in a whispered rush. He stared at the table as he continued. “And in one, Sir Keller said that he looked forward to the time...” he paused to gulp down a sob – “...to the time that he and Beecher could be true lovers.”

Vernon smiled, delighted. Keller would be outraged if he were to learn of Beecher’s visits to him, as well as fearful. He had no plan to actually try and seduce Beecher, but if Keller were to think it was possible, his mental torment would rival that of the physical illness he had been suffering. And this little chit would help him to make sure Keller did find out.

Vernon stood and pulled the boy up, wrapping his arms around the swaying body. They moved to the bed and Ronald fell onto it, curling into a ball. Vernon straightened him out and began undressing him, Ronald protesting and fighting weakly until Vernon gave the boy’s cock a few strokes. Ronald moaned and spread his legs when Vernon rolled him onto his stomach, though he continued softly crying, “please, no.”

Using oil from the bedside lamp, Vernon slicked his cock and pressed into the firm, young ass. “I hope you enjoy this as much as your master did,” Vernon said beneath his breath, as he fucked the hole that belonged to Keller.

The boy’s cries and struggles added to Vernon’s excitement, and soon he was emptying himself into the trembling body.

When they were done, Vernon let the boy lay in the bed a moment before pushing him to the floor and throwing a blanket at him. “You will stay here tonight – you may sleep on the rug in front of the fireplace.”

Ronald did not move, sitting stunned as he tried to understand what had happened. Vernon’s impulse was to kick him across the room, but he restrained himself, still needing the boy’s friendship. He helped him to the rug, and got him a wet cloth to clean himself. As he settled the boy, he touched his cheek and smiled reassuringly at him. “Tomorrow, perhaps we can think of a way to help you.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

As Tobias rode the short distance to Warwickshire, his mind could not rest easy. He wanted to be back at the castle with Christopher, though he knew no one could tend him better than Glory. He had every confidence that Christy would be made well from her healing hands, but that brought only another problem. When Christy was well, Tobias would have to make a decision about going home. And when he thought of home, he could only think of how he could leave it permanently.

In the pub, Tobias found Ryan at a table in the back corner, the nearby window providing a space of light from the setting sun in the dim room. He approached with a smile at the sight of the serving girl on the Irishman’s lap. “I hope this means you have given up your quest to win the hand of Glory.”

Ryan pressed a coin into the hand of the girl and sent her on her way, with an order for two more ales. “I am more in love with your little sister than ever.”

“To maintain our friendship, it would probably be wise to not tell me any more.”

The drinks came, along with a plate of bread and meat.

“How is our friend?” O’ Reily asked. “And where is the beauty of which we speak?”

“She sent me to tell you she will be staying the night at Warwick. As for Keller, it was a difficult afternoon, but I am hoping he will not remember it. He sleeps now, with Glory by his side.”

“That is not a thought I wish to dwell on.”

Tobias finished his drink and waved for more. “Glory told me there is news of Genevieve, but she did not want to speak further. I worried on it all the way here.”

Ryan did not speak, but drained his cup, while Tobias waited impatiently for the drinks to arrive and the girl to light the lamp on their table. “I am restraining myself from putting my hands around your neck and choking the words from you.”

Ryan drank more, then leaned across the table, his expression of pity having Tobias more alarmed than ever. “Friend, Glory was at your home, tending to your wife when I arrived at your parent’s home.”

“I know this, O’Reily! God’s teeth, tell me what is wrong with her!”

O’Reily gripped Beecher’s hand. “She is with child.” He let go and sat back, watching his good friend accept this news.

For the briefest moment Tobias felt joy at the idea of a child, but even before the thought could finish in his head he realized the truth - his wife was to have a baby, and it was not his.

He leaned back, away from the glow of lamplight and tried to understand what this would mean. He was furious and hurt even though he had almost known she had been lifting her skirts for Rebadow for months. What would this mean for the two of them? Would she expect him to claim the child as his own? Would she care if he left her as he knew he soon would? Would she want a divorce? He knew he was putting off making the decisions he needed to where his future was concerned, but God’s teeth, to be pushed into it in this way?

With a sigh he moved closer to the table, and almost managed a smile at the worried look on O’Reily’s face. “It is all right, friend. I knew of her adultery, or at least strongly suspected it.” A thought suddenly occurred to him – “Did Glory say how long she has been in her condition?”

“She thinks four months.”

“Four months.” Tobias shook his head. “So she would have to have known, or at least guessed, weeks ago. And she never said anything.”

“What would she say, Tobias?”

“I do not know, but I wonder how long she would plan on keeping it from me? Would she go to the childbirth bed claiming indigestion and then show me a baby she found in the garden?” Then he remembered something. “Glory told me it was because of Genevieve that you did not immediately leave to return here. Was there a problem with the baby? Is Genevieve in danger?”

Ryan shook his head. “I know not the details, but Glory assured all that whatever the problem, it is remedied. Your mother will make sure she stays well.”

Tobias relaxed. He may lament the death of his marriage, and no longer feel affection for his wife, but he did not wish her harm.

The men sat quietly for several minutes, but when Tobias raised his hand to order another drink, O’Reily stayed it. “Before you are too drunk to hear me, there is more I must tell you.”

“Has my village succumbed to the plague, or my crops to locust?” Beecher could not stop thinking of Genevieve, seeing her with her stomach great and round, seeing others look upon her and wondering if they would know he was not the father, but a cuckolded fool.

“It is about Keller.”

“What?” And Beecher can finally rid the image of his faithless wife from his mind.

“When I left here last week, I stopped for the night in London and met with my cousin Sean. He told me that Keller would be returning to the Tower. The Queen will soon be sending a messenger to Shillinger, requesting his presence to discuss the future of our friend. She is going to let Shillinger decide whether she should return him to his former apartment, keep him a room of lesser means, or send him to the dungeon.”

Tobias gaped at the Irishman. “Why would she do that? Of course she knows the answer Shillinger will give! How can her anger toward Christopher continue at this pace?”

“I think she has been influenced by Dudley – they have never gotten along.”

“That is because Keller beats him at every game they have ever played. I told him it would do him well to allow the man a victory or two, but of course he could never do that.”

O’Reily laughed. “And of course he must make sure everyone knows the outcome.”

“It may have been amusing at the table the evening after a match, but now he does not laugh.” Beecher shook his head. “He cannot go back to the Tower.”

O’Reily raised his eyebrows. “What do you suggest?”  
  
Beecher slumped back in his chair. “I suggest nothing until we see how Keller is recovering.”

The two friends sat a while longer, eating more and drinking until they had to hold each other up as they made their way to the room O’Reily had upstairs.

Inside the room, Beecher squinted at the large bed waiting them. “Why do you need such a bed?” he asked, frowning at Ryan. “It is large enough for two. Was Glory to stay here as well?”

O’Reily flopped onto the bed, grinning at his friend’s distress. “This was the room they gave me – she has her own. Now come lay down and ready yourself for the headache you will have in the morning.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

In the morning, Shillinger was awake and dressed and having his breakfast in his room when Ronald awoke. When one of the servant boys had come in early to build up the fire, his eyes had widened at the sight of the blanket covered body on the floor in front of the fireplace, but of course he had not questioned it, nor did Vernon’s dresser when he arrived several minutes later.

Vernon heard the boy, groaning as he pulled himself to his feet. “Get dressed and empty the bucket you filled last night,” Vernon said without looking over. He had heard the boy become violently ill twice in the night.

“Aye, Sire.”

Vernon kept eating, watching the miserable youth gather the clothes that had been dropped on the ground last night and struggle to put them on. When he fetched the bucket he turned his head and slapped his hand over his mouth as he hurried from the room.

Upon his return, Vernon had a cup of hot tea and some biscuits on a plate for him. “Sit,” he ordered.

The boy sat, uncomfortably, Vernon noticed with an inner grin, but looked dismayed at the food. “I do not think I can eat, m’lord.”

“You will,” said Vernon, forcing a sympathetic tone. “I have put a powder in your tea that will help with your headache, but you must have food on your stomach as well.”

Ronald picked listlessly at the food while sipping the tea.

“You had quite a bit of drink last night, boy. Do you remember all that happened?”

Vernon could see by the stricken expression that he was aware of having been fucked. Vernon wondered if he remembered it, or if it was the condition of his sore ass that did it.

Ronald nodded and tears sprang to his eyes. “I remember that we...” His eyes went to the bed and he bit lip.

Vernon touched his hand. “We did, and I think we both enjoyed it, did we not?”

Ronald looked at Vernon. “I think so, but I should not...my master might not...”

Vernon laughed. “You think Keller will not want you anymore if he knows you have been with me? That this will give him another reason to take Beecher to his bed instead of you?”

Ronald’s eyes widened in horror. “Did I say those things?” His tears began to flow as Vernon nodded sympathetically. “Ohhh, I should not have! I have betrayed him!”

“Do not worry, so, lad. I believe you and I can help each other.”

Ronald eyed him suspiciously, yet hopefully. “How?”

“You wish to be with Keller, do you not?” He continued without bothering to wait for an answer. “And I wish Beecher to go home.”

“But my master loves Lord Beecher.”

“Then what is the problem? You want your master to be happy, then he is happy.”

“But I can make him happy, as well!” The boy was so confused and upset, Vernon almost felt guilty at the ease of which he knew he could get his cooperation.

“Let me tell you something, my boy. Beecher needs to be at home - he has a wife and responsibilities waiting for him. He should be there. And you can be here, comforting Keller.”

“But how...”

“Hopefully Keller will be improved in a day or two, and you can declare your feelings for him.”

“And Beecher?”

Vernon took the boy’s hand and stroked the back gently as he looked into the red-rimmed blue eyes. “I would never suggest anyone tell him this, but if Keller were to learn that Beecher was coming to see me every evening, that might be what is needed to bring enough of a conflict between the two to send Beecher on his way.”

“Beecher spends the evenings with you?”

“Lord Beecher, boy, do not forget your manners.”

“I am sorry, Sire.” Vernon could see the boy’s mind working. “I am just surprised that Beecher has been...visiting with you.”

“There really is nothing unusual about it, I simply require company to help me pass my time.” His lips twisted in a knowing smile. “Much as you did last night.”

Ronald’s eyes widened and Vernon knew he need not say anymore. “I want you to clean up and go see if the housekeeper needs help today.”

The boy was distressed. “May I go see how my master is doing?”

“Perhaps you would enjoy the visit better when Lord Beecher was not there. I do not know if he has returned to the castle yet. Wait for an opportunity later in the day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now finish your tea and go clean up.” Vernon longed to have the boy on his knees, sliding his cock between those red lips, but there would be time for that later.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

In the morning, O’Reily and Beecher did indeed both feel the effects of the previous evening. They summoned the mistress of the inn to fix them a breakfast neither really wanted, but forced themselves to eat.

After breakfast, O’Reily pledged he would stay as long as needed and do all he could to help. Tobias left, promising that either he or Glory would return later.

Back at Warwick, Tobias found Glory in the room, wrapping a blanket around Keller, who was sitting up in bed, and his heart leapt at the sight.

“Tobias.” Glory’s smiled sympathetically at him and gave him a warm hug when he moved to the bed.

Christopher was shaking, but his eyes lit up at the sight of Tobias. “You have returned – I thought perhaps you and O’Reily would long be unconscious.” Christopher’s teeth chattered and he pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

“It was a struggle, but we managed to be awake with the sun,” Tobias answered as he looked questioningly to Glory.

“His fever broke early this morning and the fire had gone down. He has caught a chill, but otherwise is feeling well.”

“And do you?” Tobias took Christopher’s hand. “Feel well?”

“I feel so much better now.” He tugged on Tobias’ hand and the two grinned like smitten children.

Glory watched them, until she suddenly seemed to remember something. “I must go. I should,” she paused, looking around the room until she spotted her cloak, “I should speak with Greta about...breakfast.” And she hurried from the room.

“Do you think she left to give us time alone?” Tobias smiled down at Christopher.

“She could not have been more obvious, I think.” The two laughed and for a moment all the bad news O’Reily had imparted to Beecher was forgotten .He got onto the bed, stretching out next to Christopher. He wrapped his arms around him and Keller rested his head on his shoulder. “What news did O’Reily have?”

“And what makes you think he had any news?”

Beecher could hear the smile in his lover’s voice. “The man could be trapped in a cave for a year and come out with information no one has any idea of.”

“Talking can wait.” Tobias looked toward the Heavens, hating the knowledge he carried. “We will rest and hope your shaking stops.”

“Then you will have to move away from me.”

“What?”

Keller tilted his head up to look Tobias in the face. “The very nearness of you causes my body to tremble.”

Tobias shook his head. “You are a cad even in the throes of illness.”

“Kiss me quick, before Glory returns and then I will be quiet for you.”

For some reason, this statement brought a lump to Tobias’ throat. He swallowed it back as he bent his head and pressed his lips to Christopher’s. “I love you, so,” he said against those same lips when the kiss was broken, his voice rough with emotion.

“Are you all right?” Christopher was concerned.

Tobias tenderly smoothed his cheek. “I am just so happy that you are better.” He kissed his love again and then gently pressed the sweaty brow to his chest. “Now, rest as you promised.”

They were that way when Glory returned. “Mary is on her way, perhaps you wish to avoid shocking the child.” Regretfully, Tobias moved to the chair next to the bed while Glory made Christopher more comfortable with pillows behind his head.

“I know you are feeling better, Christopher, but there is still infection in your body, and it is important you rest easy and stay warm.”

Christopher took the woman’s hand in his own, kissing her fingers. “Ever since you healed me those many years ago, I have considered you an angel. And now you prove yourself again.”

Glory lovingly shook her head. “And you are such a devil. Now you will eat and sleep.”

Christopher slept for hours, and Glory and Beecher talked of Genevieve and the Queen’s decision to leave Keller’s future to Shillinger. Glory could not help where Shillinger was concerned, but Tobias made her promise to watch over his wife.

“Of course,” she assured, “but will you not soon be home?”

Looking toward the bed, Tobias shook his head. “I do not know.”

They changed their talk to happier matters until Christopher woke. After checking on him, and being pleased with his progress, Glory made to leave for Warwickshire. Tobias walked with her to the stables, and instructed one of the stable boys to accompany her.

He kissed her cheek as the groom saddled the horse. “I trust you completely, but not so O’Reily.”

“Tobias,” the dark-haired beauty admonished, “we have had ample opportunity for any improprieties you may be concerned about to have already occurred.”

Tobias rolled his eyes. “What do you torture me?” he asked, smiling as she mounted her horse.

“I will return in the morning, the same girl who leaves you tonight,” she assured.

When he returned to their room, Greta and Mary were changing the linen on the bed, while Christopher sat in the large chair by the fireplace, wrapped in a heavy quilt...with Ronald on the floor at his feet.

Tobias realized his jealousy of the boy was uncalled for, but still, seeing the complete adoration on the young face as he gazed at Christopher disquieted him. Even more so, the dark look directed his way.

Greta and Mary paused in their work to bow toward Tobias. Greta stood, staring at the servant boy on the floor, her eyes widening in disbelief. Moving around the bed, the housekeeper slapped him on the back of the head. “On your feet, you disrespectful lout!”

Keller bit at his lip over the woman’s outrage while Ronald stood and bowed in Beecher’s direction. “Forgive me, m’lord.”

As he moved to sit back down, Greta grabbed the servant’s ear. “Take these dirty sheets to the laundry! I never saw such a thing, lolling on the ground when there is work to be done.” She seemed to suddenly realize that it was not her place to order the knight’s personal servant. “If it pleases you, Sir. But if you prefer he continue...” She seemed to be momentarily at a loss for words before continuing. “...sitting...,” she finally finished.

At this Keller chuckled, and swatted at Ronald’s backside. “You better go on with her, lad. I cannot imagine you would wish to displeasure her.”

As the two younger people left the room with their arms full, Greta curtsied. “Peter will be in the hall, awaiting word if you need anything.”

“Have him go on, Greta,” Beecher instructed. “He can check on us in a bit – I think we will be resting this evening.”

“Aye, Sir.”

As the door closed behind the housekeeper, Christopher sighed in relief. “I feel it has been days since we were alone.”

Tobias went to him, kissing the top of his head. “I have missed the sound of your laughter.” Taking his arm, he gently pulled. “Now, back to bed.”

“I am much better, I do not think I need you hovering so anymore.”

“It is a miracle at how well you are doing, and I thank our Lord for it, but if you push yourself too hard you will undo all.”

“Thank you, Dr. Beecher.” Christopher grinned but his eyes were tired and he gratefully allowed Tobias to put him to bed and pour him a cup of water. “I will sleep as soon as we talk.”

Once Christopher was settled, Tobias stripped down to his linen shirt chausses and sat at the table, pouring himself a glass of wine, dreading what he had to tell his lover.

He drank his wine and looked at Christopher, who was waiting patiently. “The Queen wishes you back at the Tower. She will leave it up to Shillinger as to where in the palace you will reside.” He poured himself another drink. “In your old apartment, do you think? Or in the dungeon, to be starved and tortured until you confess your crime?” He had not meant to do it, but his fear and anger overcame him and he once more begged. “Christy, please, please confess! If you go to the Tower now, you know you will not be taken care of. What if the infection returns – it would be a race to see which you lose first – your leg or your life!”

Tobias waited, distressed – but not surprised – to see Christopher’s face harden and turn from him. He went to the bed and gripped the man’s hand in his. “Christy, please.” His voice softened but his pleading was not diminished. “I am prepared to leave all and go with you. Confess your guilt and I am sure the Queen will set you free. This has gone on long enough and she will see that her unfairness in this situation will only turn against her.”

Christopher pulled his hand from Tobias. “Go back to your wife, Toby,” he sighed. “You are right, this has gone on long enough. Perhaps it will be as you say – the Queen will have her way until the tide of court sentiment turns against her.”

“And we can only pray that tide will turn before your death.”

“I will not confess.”

Tobias took a deep breath. He had not truly expected Christopher to agree to a confession, and he was not sure how he would have responded if he had, but there were not many options left for them. The word ‘escape’ had been present but unspoken for days.

“What will you do?”

Christopher sighed again and shook his head. “Let us speak of other things.”

“No!” Tobias stood, frustrated and angry. “I will not let this go! I will not be idle while we wait for Elizabeth to take you away!”

“Then do not be idle!” Christopher sat up, his own anger and frustration evident on his face. “Go back to your wife as I said. You cannot live on the fringe of my life, having none of your own.”

“My life…hah! Do you know what waits for me at home? A pregnant wife!” He moved back to the table, pouring himself another cup of wine. “She will not lay for her own husband, but does for a man who must call it a miracle when his cock is even hard enough to find its way between her legs!”

Tobias turned away, the sorrow and compassion he saw on his lover’s face fueling his rage and feeling of impotence.

“Toby, come here.”

Tobias ignored him, drinking the wine.

“Toby, do not get drunk. Come here.”

Tobias took a deep breath and went to the bed, taking Christopher’s outstretched hand. He let himself be pulled down, into Christy’s arms. He let himself be held and his gratitude toward Christy for remaining silent, for not trying to comfort him with words that would bring no comfort, had him clutching hard onto the man.

As his tears dried, he pulled away and shifted their positions. “I should be holding you – you are the patient here.”

“Let us hold each other.”

The two men fell asleep, face to face, hands on each other.

Later in the evening, there came a knock on the door. Tobias slid from the bed and unlocked the door.

“Sir.” It was one of the servants Shillinger had brought with him. “M’lord wishes to see you.”

Tobias held his tongue against the reply he wished to give. “Tell Lord Shillinger I will be there soon.”

Tobias went to the chest, pulling clean clothes from it, silently thanking Greta for being so prompt in taking care of his clothing.

“What does he want?” Christopher asked.

“I do not know. Perhaps to see how you are doing.” Tobias kept his head bowed, intent on the buttons on his jerkin, hating the lie as he spoke it.

“He is playing with us. He is playing nice while at the same time planning something, I know.”

“As soon as he gets word from Elizabeth, he can give up all his plans. She is delivering the perfect revenge into his hands.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

The next few days were the same, with Glory making a trip in the mornings and late afternoons to check on Keller. Tobias questioned her traveling so much, why would she just not spend the day?

“I feel a bit of an intruder on your time with Christopher.”

“You are never an intruder. But perhaps we can arrange a room for you while you are here.”

Glory stroked his cheek, while a blush colored her own. “I must admit, I am enjoying my time with Ryan.”

“Will I regret it if I ask what you two do to pass the time?”

“We take walks, mostly, and talk. The weather has been so mild and the trees are so beautiful in their autumn colors.”

Tobias and Glory were walking along the stream that ran along the castle as Christopher slept. Tobias looked around them, taking in his surroundings in detail for the first time in many days. There was a chill in the air, but the sun shone brightly on the gold and red leaves of the forest. “It is indeed a fine season this year.”

“I think perhaps Christopher could take a walk outside later.”

“Do you?” Already, Keller was taking short walks in the hall outside their room, and they had let him step outside to see the sun, but Glory was mindful of him taking chill again.

“As long as the wind does not blow and the sun stays so bright. We will make sure he is plenty warm.”

When they returned to the room, Christopher was already awake and at the table, playing a game of cards with Peter.

“Tobias, I may need a loan. This boy can earn his way in life as long as he can find a game.”

Tobias smiled at the pleasant scene in front of him. He and Christopher had not spoken of the future any further – Tobias had told him he would make his decision as to what he would do when they had word about Christopher’s move back to the Tower. In the meantime, they both played as though things were not as grim as they were, that the only thing they had on their minds was Christopher’s recovery.

They both felt the tension and unease that existed in the room, though. It came from the uncertainty of what was soon to happen, wondering if Shillinger would act before he received word from Elizabeth.

And, of course, Tobias felt anxious about his meetings with Shillinger, as well. As Christopher improved, it was harder to make excuses to leave him every evening.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

That afternoon, after the short walk, and Glory had left for Warwickshire, the two men sent the servants on their way and sat down to their supper.

“That walk did me good, Toby.”

“I can tell.” Even from just a few moments in the fresh air and sunshine, Christopher had a fresh glow of health about him. “If the weather holds good, we will make sure you have more time out of doors.”

Beecher almost forgot his own meal in the enjoyment he experienced watching Christopher eat – his appetite had returned in full.

“Are you not eating?” Christopher asked, reaching across the table and taking a bit of cheese from his lover’s plate.

“Not that cheese, I suppose,” Tobias chuckled.

Christopher swallowed the stolen morsel and looked at Tobias. “I love to hear you laugh.”

“I wish there were occasion for us to do more of it.” Tobias took a deep breath and broached the subject he had been thinking of for some time. “Christy, do you ever think of escape?”

“Sometimes.”

“And do you have ideas?”

“Toby, if I were ever to escape, from here or anywhere, you cannot be involved.”

“Why?”

“Because, if any thing were to happen, if I was caught, you can have no knowledge of it. You must be innocent of all.”

“Christopher, I am part of your life, you cannot keep me isolated from such – ”

“Tobias!” Christopher had stood and was unbuttoning his blouse.

“What?”

“I am undressing and you do not even take note?”

Tobias huffed in frustration. He did not wish to stop this discussion – it was Christy’s life that was in question - but he could not deny the reaction his body was having to seeing Christopher’s revealed.

Soon, both men were naked, in bed, wrapped around each other. They had not done much more than kiss and hold each other since Christopher’s recovery. Now, their banked passions were let loose, and they fell upon each other as though possessed, rough and heated, though taking care to mind Christopher’s leg.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

In his room, Vernon waited for Ronald to come to him. They had been meeting every day, secretly; Vernon knew the sympathies of the other servants lay with Keller and Beecher. Vernon let the boy think his visits were only to be fucked, or suck Vernon’s cock, and while he certainly enjoyed that aspect of their time together, Vernon was also continuing to gain Ronald’s trust and loyalty. In subtle statements, he made sure the boy thought he was not the only one giving himself to Vernon.

As Vernon fucked the boy’s mouth, he groaned beneath his breath, “Ah, so much better than Beecher.” He knew by the boy’s slight pause that he had heard. Vernon pushed deeper and faster, lost in the fantasy that it was indeed Beecher kneeling before him, and Keller was watching, helpless to stop it.

When Vernon finished, Ronald dropped to the floor, gasping for air and wiping the tears from his eyes. The sight made Vernon wish he could keep the boy with him until he was hard again, and fuck the pretty ass until he cried. But he must not ask too much, keeping the boy on his side.

Vernon knelt on the floor, wiping the boy’s face with edge of his sleeve, making sure he would remember to have his dresser burn the shirt. “I am sorry, my lad.” He kissed the red, swollen lips. “You please me so much, I forgot myself in my passion. I think Keller must be mad to keep you from his bed.”

The boy relaxed as Vernon wrapped his arms around him. “I think you should go to him tonight, while Beecher is here, and declare your love. From what Beecher has said to me,” he lied smoothly, “he may be going home soon, and Keller will need the comforting embrace of someone who loves him enough to stay.”

They both got to their feet, and Ronald gathered himself. “Does Keller know Beecher is leaving him?”

“Oh, I doubt it. I have received word that Keller may soon return to the Tower. And when I shared the news with Beecher, he did not seem anxious to follow.” Vernon smoothed an errant lock of hair from the vivid blue eyes of the servant. “But he will end up hurting him, in the end, will he not? I would not say anything to Keller about this – if Lord Beecher were to change his mind, you would end up looking the fool.”

Ronald nodded, and started across the room. “But I can let him know that Lord Beecher is playing him false by coming here.” The words were softly mumbled.

“What is that?” Vernon asked.

Ronald turned, shaking his head, eyes wide at almost being caught. “Nothing, Sire. I…it was nothing.”

“Very well. I will have Beecher here when the lights are lit. You may go to Keller’s room then.”

Vernon rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He had only been given the news this morning about the Queen’s decision to place Keller’s fate in his hands. Elizabeth herself would not send official word until her return to London from her extended pilgrimage, but the friend who had sent the message was reliable. Vernon could not wait to impart this information to Beecher.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

That evening, when he heard the servants move through the halls, lighting the small torches there, Tobias moved quietly from the bed, hoping to leave without disturbing Keller.

“Where do you go?”

Tobias turned, trying to not force his smile too much. “Only to see Greta – I thought I might surprise you and see if she could make those berry muffins my mother used to make.”

Christopher smiled, but there was doubt in his eyes. “I am sure she will be by to check on me, as she has done every evening.”

“I told you, it was to be a surprise.”

“Now that I know, you can return.” Christopher pushed back the blanket and patted the empty space next to him.

Tobias continued dressing, pulling on the flat, leather shoes he wore about the castle. “I am now in the mood for a walk – I will not be long.”

“Perhaps I will join you.”

Beecher tried not to show his emotion, and wondered if Christopher suspected something. “I think the walk earlier and then our...exercise...this afternoon was enough for today.” He went to the door, taking his cloak from the peg on the wall. “I will not be long,” he repeated, and hurried from the room before Christopher could answer.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

There was no time for him to even reply to the knock on his door before Beecher came in.

“Good evening, Viscount.”

“This will end now, Shillinger.”

Shillinger rose from the chair in his sitting room and moved to the sideboard, holding wine and glasses. “Will you join me?”

Beecher moved to him in a few angry strides. “Do you not hear me? This can go on no longer. Keller is suspicious and I cannot put him off any longer.”

Shillinger handed a glass of the fine wine to Beecher. “Then tell him what you are doing.”

Beecher took the glass abruptly and set it back down, splashing wine to the floor. “I will not need to tell him what I am doing because it is over!”

Shillinger watched over the top of his glass as he slowly sipped from it while Beecher paced the rug of the seating area. “I think not,” he grinned, delighted in what was to come next.

“And why is that? You threaten to send him back to that miserable cell? Then do it!” Beecher was fuming and Shillinger could not be happier.

“You do not care any longer? Has the blush of your romance faded?”

Beecher stopped short and stared at Vernon before catching himself. “I do not know what you mean.” But he turned away, realizing he had already given himself away.

Vernon went on. “Or is it because you have somehow found out that he will not be here at Warwick much longer?” After thinking on it this afternoon, Vernon realized that if his friend in London had learned the news of Elizabeth’s decision, so must have others. And that gutter trash O’Reily was known to have the confidence of many. It would not surprise Vernon at all if that servant bitch Glory was not the only thing O’Reily had brought on his journey here, but also news of Keller’s impending move. As Beecher stared at him in surprise, he knew he was right.

“I do not-”

Vernon held up his hand. “Do not protest, Beecher, it does become you to lie so blatantly. Now that all is out in the open, we can discuss what we need and you can return to your lover.”

Beecher’s face flushed, but he held himself straight and spat at Shillinger. “I have nothing to discuss with you.”

Vernon moved to stand between him and the door. “Ah, but I think we do, and you realize it is even more important that ever to hear what I have to say. Sit down.” He smiled as Beecher sat, not in one of the more comfortable chairs by Vernon’s own, but further down the room, in a hard, straight seat. Refilling the wine cups, he handed one to Beecher. “You will drink with me.”

Taking his own seat, he sat sipping his wine, saying nothing as he looked at Beecher, until the other man snapped. “What is this? What do you want?”

Vernon set his glass down on the table beside him and leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. “It has not been so bad, coming here, has it? To drink a fine glass of wine and talk politics and religion as we have? I have certainly enjoyed the debate we had yesterday on how to handle our problems with Scotland, did you not?”

Beecher did not answer and Vernon continued. “I only suggest we take it a little further and ensure that when I answer the Queen’s request, I give her the reply that will keep Keller a relatively happy man.”

Beecher’s face was dark with suspicion. “How do you mean?”

Vernon’s lips curled into a wide smirk. “That boy Ronald is a fine fuck, but I think I would prefer more of a man for a bit.”

Oh, the expression on Beecher’s face was something to behold. The shock and outrage could almost not be contained on his handsome features. “You are a madman!” he finally managed to sputter and, throwing his drink to the ground, made for the door.

“I would not!”

Beecher stopped and turned abruptly. “And why should I not? What you are suggesting is...it is more than unacceptable – it is immoral and illegal.”

Vernon laughed aloud. “Only when it is with someone you despise? Does love make it decent and acceptable in the eyes of God and the law?”

Beecher shook his head, sputtering his words. “I do not understand why you would even...why do you think...I would never...”

“Oh, but you have, m’lord, I know you have. Do not tell me that in all the days you have shared a bed with Keller he has not had you on your belly for him?”

“Never!”

And from the expression on his face, truthful, but with a hint of untruth there as well, Vernon believed him. He walked toward Beecher, whose backward retreat was blocked when he bumped into the door.

“Perhaps Keller has not had all the pleasures you have to give, but I suspect he has had some.” Vernon pressed one hand against Beecher’s chest, the other cupping his chin. The man allowed it, but his eyes blazed in anger.

“That makes it even better, you know. When Keller is finally free of his imprisonment, you will not be as a hesitant maid, waiting for him. You will have the knowledge to please him as I am sure you wish.”

Beecher was shaking. “You disgust me.” He jerked his head free from Vernon’s grasp, but the older man simply pushed his hand into Beecher’s golden hair, holding tight.

“I do not think I disgusted Keller so much, his first time, though he has been angry with me for all these years. That is why he killed my son, you know.”

Beecher pulled back as far as he could, eyes wide in shock as he stared at Vernon. “You were the one, the man at Baymoore, the bastard who used him!” He jerked away, leaving strands of his hair flowing from Vernon’s fingers.

Vernon chuckled, advancing on Beecher. “Do you not think it would be fitting – I took Keller’s virginity, and I shall take yours? You two could spend evenings comparing the event.”

As Beecher made for the door once more, Vernon moved quicker, again blocking his passage. “I want you to think about this proposal, Beecher. We will have several more days here, at least, before Keller is called to return to London.”

Vernon’s eyes widened in surprise, before his laughter escaped him, as Beecher pulled a knife from his belt. “Do you plan on cutting my throat? Perhaps you think the Queen will let you and Keller share a dungeon cell together?”

Beecher dropped his arm, pointing the blade between Shillinger’s legs. “Will you laugh when I drop your shriveled cock to the ground and make this conversation meaningless?”

Vernon felt a twinge of fear, which only seemed to add to the rising excitement he felt at being so close to Beecher and talking as they had. “I will move from the door now, and let you go.” He hoped Ronald had enough time to accomplish what he had gone for. “You can give me your answer on the morrow.”

As he watched Beecher storm from the room, Vernon longed to follow and see what Keller’s reaction was to finding out that Beecher had been coming to see him. He had no doubt that Ronald would inform him of that much, at least, but he could not be sure if the boy would suggest that they had been doing anything inappropriate. Perhaps the boy would confess that he had himself had known the feel of Vernon’s cock in his mouth and ass – even if the man were no longer using the boy, Vernon was sure he would not want to share.

Having given his servants the night off, Vernon went into his room and began undressing. He had gotten no further than his shoes when a loud knocking on the door interrupted him. “Enter.”

Ronald pushed through the door, crying, his breath coming in heaving gasps.

“My boy, what happened?” Ronald dropped to his knees and Vernon went to him, pulling him to his feet. “What is it?” Ronald could not stop his pitiful sobbing and Vernon resisted the urge to slap him. Steering him toward the bed, they sat and Vernon held him until he finally gained control of himself.

“I...I went to my master and told him...” He threatened tears again until Vernon gripped him by the shoulders and urged him on. “I told him I loved him, and that I would stay by him no matter what happened. I told him I would go to the bowels of prison with him, that I would die for him. He held me and kissed me and told me he loved me and I was so happy, but then he said that if he ever had to go back to the Tower I would not be allowed to go.” Ronald paused, and though he did not start his sobbing again, tears continued to flow. “I begged him to take me one more time before we were separated. I wanted to show him how much I love him.”

The boy stopped, overcome with despair. Vernon got him a cup of water – vowing it would be the last time he waited on this whining little shit. Ronald took the cup gratefully and finished it all before continuing.

“He said it would not be fair to me, that he could not take advantage of my love. And I got so upset, I asked him if it was because of Lord Beecher and he said...he told me it was not my concern.”

Vernon could see the anger take hold in the boy’s eyes and he eagerly awaited what happened next.

Ronald stood and wrapped his arms around himself. “I told him it was my concern when he was being played a fool, and did he not know that Beecher left him every evening to spend time with another man?” Here, Ronald looked at the ground and then back at Vernon, worry now creasing his brow. “And I told him...I told him that...that I thought you and Beecher were lovers. I am sorry, if you did not want him to know.”

Vernon’s hands clenched at his sides in his triumph. “I never told you that, boy. You are mistaken.” His voice was calm but firm.

Ronald’s face filled with doubt. “But you said that you and he spent the night as...the same...you said ‘much as the two of us’ had done that first night.”

“Yes, that is true. We spent most of the evening talking and drinking together, did we not? That is all I was referring to.”

Ronald’s mouth dropped open in confusion and dismay as he realized what he had done. “But earlier, you said that I was better than Beecher.” He was becoming desperate, kneeling at Vernon’s feet and grasping at his legs.

“Did I? I do not recall. Perhaps I meant that I preferred your company to his.”

“No, please. He will hate me for lying to him.”

“Now, listen to me. You said you told him you thought we were lovers – is that true, or did you state it as fact?”

Ronald stopped groveling, his face twisted in concentration. “I said...I said that he visited you every night and that you told me you enjoyed his company much as you did mine.”

“And...?”

“And he asked what did I mean.” Ronald looked up. “And I told him that I shared your bed...and suspected that Lord Beecher did as well.”

This was wonderful, and Vernon could not help laughing. Even when Keller learned the truth of Beecher’s visits to him, he would always know how Vernon had used his precious little servant boy.

Ronald was looking at him in confusion.

“Oh, do not worry, boy. As Keller said, you will not be with him much longer, it matters not what he thinks of you, does it?”

The servant was shaking his head, not understanding. Vernon was enjoying himself immensely, now that he no longer had to worry about cultivating the boy’s friendship and loyalty.

“Get up and take your clothes off. Wait for me in my bed.”

“I do not...I must go to my master and make him understand. He still wants me, he said he would send me to his father to await his release from prison.”

Vernon grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet – and then slapped him sharply across the face. Ronald fell against the bed and slid to the floor, holding his cheek, his eyes filling with tears as he looked in shock and disbelief at the Count towering over him.

Vernon rubbed his hand against his chest, delighting in the stinging feeling on it. “While your master is imprisoned and you are in this castle, you will do as I say, when I say it. You are mine – he has no authority over you anymore. Now,” Vernon reached down and grabbed the shocked youth by the hair, pulling him up. “I told you to undress and wait for me in the bed.”

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Beecher paused at the end of the hallway, giving himself a moment to calm down. There was too much to think on, and his anger, disgust and fear were overwhelming. He ran his hands over his head, barely noting the tender spot where he had left so many hairs in Shillinger’s grasp. Of it all, he could not stop thinking about it being Shillinger that had taken Christopher’s virginity - he was the one that had his Christy crying and fearing Hell all those years ago. And Christy had kept the secret all this time.

Taking a deep breath, he rounded the corner, eager to find Christopher and talk with him. Together they would decide what to do. He had not far to go, as there was Christopher, sitting on a bench outside their bedroom door.

“Christy, what are you doing out here? Let us go in, we have much to discuss.”

“I am waiting for you. Where have you been?” Christopher stood, his body stiff and his gaze hard – Tobias suddenly felt ill at ease.

“I have been for a walk, as I said. Please, let us go into the room, I do not wish to discuss this out here.”

“Discuss what – your walk?”

They stared at each other until Tobias pushed past Christopher into their room. He had barely taken a step inside before Christopher was there, grabbing his arm and pushing him against the wall. “Will you now tell me where you have been?”

Tobias bristled at the hold Christopher had on him, but he understood the man’s anger, as he apparently had learned the truth. “I was with Shillinger.”

The flush of emotion that crossed his lover’s face – anger, confusion, and worst of all, fear – tore at Beecher’s heart.

“Why?” The word was a harsh whisper.

“He wanted company.” He ignored Christopher’s sneer and continued. “He wanted someone to talk to, to spend time with. In exchange for an hour of my time every evening, he allowed you stay free of your prison cell.”

Christopher stepped back, squinting at Tobias, who recognized it as a sign of doubt.

“Conversation, Christy, that was all.”

“Conversation? Or was it you only being able to listen as hillinger spoke, as your mouth was full of his cock?”

Tobias felt as though he had been punched.

“Or did he enjoy hearing what you had to say as he bent you over and fucked you?”

Tobias felt his eyes fill, his anger and frustration uncontainable.

“You bastard.” Tobias’ voice trembled in his rage and despair. “I hated every minute I had to spend with that man, yet I thought nothing of doing it for you.”

He took a step, and without thought, slapped Christopher’s face. Keller’s eyes widened in surprise, but he stayed still as Tobias continued.

“And tonight, when Shillinger did suggest what you accuse me of, when he offered another deal – my body for his use to keep you out of the Tower dungeon – I could not wait to find you and tell you, because I knew between the two of us we could find a way to thwart the man.”

Christopher still said nothing, but his eyes filled with tears as he listened. Tobias saw this, and knew that Christy already was sorry for what he had said, but he could not so easily dismiss the feelings that still twisted in his gut at the man’s accusations.

“I am not you, Keller. I did not let the man fuck me.” Christopher still stood silently, his expression the same, the tears sliding down his cheeks the only movement from him.

Instantly, Beecher regretted his words. “Oh, Christy, please, I am sorry.” He went to his lover and to his immense relief, was pulled into his arms. They held each other tightly, but too soon, Christopher pulled away, his posture changing, his eyes darkening, yet Tobias could see regret and sadness in them. “I want you to go home, now, tonight, Toby. You have been here too long and you have matters that need your attention. Please go.”

“I can’t leave – if I do, Shillinger will send you back to your cell. I must wait until the request from Elizabeth.”

“And then what, Toby? Then what will you wait for? First, you waited for Shillinger to arrive, then for Glory, now for word from the Queen. And what will you do when that happens? Will you follow me to the Tower and take a room there, declaring you must then wait for my death?”

The words stung, but Tobias ignored them. “What of escape, Christy? We can plan something before you are sent back to London.”

Christopher shook his head. “You do not understand, my love. I do not want you here anymore. I will go to the dungeon and there will be no need of your presence. Take Glory and tend to your farm and your wife and I will send word to you when I can.”

“I...I do not understand, Christy. What has happened, why do you speak thus? I cannot leave you here like this, you must know that.” Tobias was beginning to despair, realizing that Christopher could not be swayed. “Is this because of Shillinger? I promise, I will not see him again, I will not speak to him!”

“Tobias, please!” Christopher’s shout stunned Tobias into silence. As he watched, Christopher slipped into the soft boots Tobias had brought for him. “What are you doing?” he whispered the words, afraid of the answer.

“I am going to see Shillinger.” Christopher came to him, wrapping his arms around Tobias in a hard, quick embrace. “Leave tonight, go see O’Reily.” Tobias began to protest, but Christopher’s fingers on his lips silenced him. “Do not make this more difficult for me, please, Toby.” The words were a whispered plea. “Remember I love you.” And then Christopher let go, and Tobias watched, feeling weak and stupid, as he left the room.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Ronald had just removed the last of his clothes when they heard the outer door to Shillinger’s apartments crash open.

“Shillinger!”

Shillinger grinned, delighted. He noticed the boy gathering his clothes, trying to cover himself. “Drop them!” he ordered, and the servant fell to the floor with the clothing, curling in on himself, trying to hide as his master slammed through the bedroom door.

“Whatever it is you are scheming, Shillinger, you can stop now. Beecher is leaving Warwick tonight, and – ” He stopped, catching sight of Ronald on the floor by the bed.

“Get up.” His voice was low and horrible, and this was more entertaining than Vernon ever thought it could be. “Get up now and get dressed and go to Lord Beecher. Tell him you are leaving with him. You will go to my father’s home.”

Ronald stood, his body shaking so hard he could barely manage to pull on his stockings and shirt, not bothering with the rest.

“He is a pretty one, is he not, Keller? I do not understand how you let that one slip from your bed. Even if you do not use his ass, his mouth is delightful.”

Ronald was crying and trying to speak to Keller.

“Go!” The knight shouted, scaring the boy from the room. “And now Shillinger, I am ready to go back to my cell. There is none of mine left for you to use anymore. Let us just be done with it.”

“Unless you are prepared to offer me something in exchange for a good word with Elizabeth?” Shillinger saw Keller’s hands curl into fists and knew he had could push the man no further. With a sigh, he went to the outer door of his sitting room and instructed the servant waiting there to have two guards come, with chains, to escort Sir Keller back to his cell.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Ryan waited at the small pub, sitting in the back corner where he could see all who entered. He had not heard that he was being sought after, but he knew there were not a few who would be interested in talking to him if they could – talking in a way that could be quite painful.

After Beecher had reluctantly gone home, taking Glory with him, and Keller returned to his prison cell in the dungeon of Warwick, Ryan had also left Warwickshire, making sure one or two of the workers at the inn where he had stayed heard him speak of returning to Ireland. Instead, he made a camp in the woods about a mile from the castle. His nights were spent hidden beneath the warm hay of a barn on a farm not far away, depending on the rooster’s call every morning to wake him before the farmer found him.

The escape went easily enough, thanks to the help of some of the servants of the castle. At first Keller had been adamant that none of them risk their own safety or freedom to help him.

“Then how in bloody hell are we going to do this?” Ryan yelled. “After you leave, how will we communicate?”

Glory lay a hand on his arm and her touch instantly calmed him. “I have not told Christopher this yet, but the servants, Mary and Peter, the brother and sister? They came to me this morning and told me they want to help. They know if Keller goes back to the Tower, he will not be so lucky as he has been.”

Ryan waited a moment as the girl brought them their tea and biscuits – it was the same wench who Beecher had found sitting on his lap days earlier; he ignored her suggestive smile as she sat his cup in front of him, but he saw that Glory did not.

“Do you know her?” she asked, far too sweetly.

“Only from serving my meals, as you do.” He took one of the tarts from his plate and put it on hers. “I know you like these,” he smiled.

“You try too hard, O’Reily.” But she smiled, grudgingly, back at him.

“It worries me that the servants know about this escape – what if word gets to Shillinger, or others sympathetic to him?”

“My dear, if you ever need to know anything, go to the servants. And how many do you think will choose to help the Count over the knight?”

And so, it was those Peter and Mary who carried messages back and forth between Keller and himself when Glory was gone. A place was arranged in the forest near the castle – sometimes Ryan would dare to meet the conspirators himself, other times, a large rock at the foot of a tree was where they would leave their missives. Thankfully, Peter and Mary had both received some schooling, more than most of their class – Mary in particular was more learned than other females of her ilk.

After a few days, Keller feigned the return of his illness to make him seem weakened and unlikely to run. Ryan did not know if the younger servants had said anything to Greta, or if she had a suspicion, or if she only did it out of her fondness for Keller, but she confirmed to Shillinger Keller’s assertion of his ill health.

Keller recounted to him that when she came to check on him, looking at his quickly-healing wound and feeling the cool of his forehead, she had clucked her tongue and said what a shame it was that he had relapsed so.

When warned that the Count was coming himself to check on the prisoner, Keller had taken a small rat that he had caught in his cell and killed it, tearing it apart, smearing the blood beneath the bandage on his ankle, letting it soak through. Then he had done many exercises - some on one foot as he truly did not want to re-injury his leg - so that when Vernon came to him, he found Keller red-faced and hot and sweating.

Vernon ordered more blankets for him and more visits from the servants to check on him.

Ryan had laughed at this – it was only Vernon’s need to see Keller suffer in the dungeon of the Tower that had him aiding the man.

Ryan recalled with a small grin the feeling of danger it had given him to sneak onto the castle grounds every night and chip away at the mortar on the bars of the dungeon window. Keller had noted they were loose during the times he was allowed a moment to feel the sun through the bars. Ryan could see that on some days he had help from someone on the inside, and so the work went faster than he expected. He did not risk staying too long, and came only in the early morning hours, but after only seven days he had three bars loose, held in place by mud he had carried from the stream and then covered in the dust of the chipped-away mortar.

That night, after finding a message from Ryan, Peter tended to Keller for the last time, leaving his shackles unlocked, and placing a sliver from a broken knife in the straw in which the prisoner slept. Keller had insisted on this, saying that if Peter were to suffer blame for his escape, it would be less if it looked like he had only mistakenly left a knife behind for Keller to use to pick the lock, instead of opening the lock himself.

Ryan was waiting for Keller in the woods; they hid in a tangle of bushes, watching to see if Keller might be followed. Just before the rise of the sun, they walked to Ryan’s campsite, collected his belongings and began the half day’s journey to the cottage in the middle of the forest, where Ronald waited.

Ronald had told them of this place, knowing it from when he was a boy. It had been long abandoned, and Ronald had done well in cleaning and making it ready for the winter. The servant had left the castle with Beecher and Glory, on his way to live with Keller’s father – at least that was the story told to the household. Indeed, that had been Keller’s plan for him, but when the boy had overheard talk of the escape, he told Ryan of the cottage. Ryan had sent word to Keller with Glory on her last visit, and he had responded that they should take advantage of the place – he would hide there, with Ronald.

Ryan was doubtful of involving the boy, and told this to Keller as they rode to the cottage.

“He betrayed Beecher to you, Keller, and hates the man. Do you think you can trust him to help the two of you be together?”

“It is too late now.”

“I can take him home with me.”

Keller shook his head. “It would be better if he were with me, where I can keep watch over him. And, truth be told, I feel guilt over having hurt him. When Beecher returned my love, that was all I could see. Ronald has been a good and loyal companion to me, until recently. I hope to mend this damage and ease his sorrow over the winter.”

Ryan shook his head. “Beecher was not happy to leave him behind. He was furious at the lad, and threatened him in every way possible if he ever hurt you again.”

Keller’s head dropped. “I have brought too much unhappiness to the lives of both of them, all because they have loved me.”

Ryan’s doubt was renewed when they reached the cottage. Ronald at first seemed fearful, and was soon on his knees, tearfully apologetic, begging Keller’s forgiveness for his betrayal. As Keller assured him all was well, and that he was forgiven, a look of devout adoration replaced his tears. Ryan worried about the boy’s reaction when Keller would tell him he would be left behind next spring, when Beecher and Keller were reunited.

The next day, Ryan traveled to a village several miles away, gathering supplies for the cottage for the coming winter. That evening, while Ronald was out stacking the firewood he had cut that day, the two men finalized the plans for next spring. If all went well, Ryan would return to help Beecher and Keller leave the country. They had decided to wait, hoping the search for Keller would have faded by then, and travel would be easier. He left the next morning, headed home to his aunt and brother for the winter.

And then, last week, he had returned. He came earlier than expected, as the spring was proving to be as mild as the autumn had been. He spent one night with Keller, pleased to see the man had much improved over the short winter season. Leaving there, he had gone to the docks of London, booking passage to France for Beecher and Keller.

Ryan’s attention was drawn the door of the inn, as it opened once more. He sat up as a familiar face came into the pub, letting in the sharp, wet air of the early spring. He waved discreetly, and Beecher soon joined him.

“O’Reily, my God I am glad to see you.” The men shook hands warmly. “What is the news, what goes on?”

“Did you do as I asked? Are you prepared to leave?”

Beecher nodded. “All I have is loaded on a mule, in the stable with my horse. I hope it will be safe.”

“What did you tell Genevieve?”

Beecher waved his hand impatiently. “How is Keller? Is he well? You said bloody little in your letter.”

“I could not risk saying much, you know. And Keller is fine – when is he ever not? I will fill you in on everything as we travel. Now, what did you tell your wife and family?”

“I spent this last winter playing at the dutiful husband, telling my wife I would not betray her as a deceitful whore. But then, last week, when I received your letter, I told her I could no longer continue the lie. I would not be able to live with the child and pretend it was my own. She became afraid, and told me we could send it away. I told her I would be the one to leave; she thinks I am going to the Queen to petition for divorce.”

“And when you do not return?”

Beecher sighed, and O’Reily could see that as much as his marriage made him unhappy, he was disappointed that it had come to such and end.

“When I do not return, I am hoping she will claim abandonment, marry the child’s father and live a good life.”

“You are a good man, Tobias.”

“It was harder saying good-bye to my parents.” Beecher rubbed at his eyes. “And to Glory – I will miss that sweet sister of mine.”

Ryan held his tongue. He had something of great import to tell Tobias, but it would have to wait until a more proper time.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

On the road meet up with Keller, O’Reily told Beecher all that had gone on since last they were together. He had been able to communicate only twice with the Viscount since he left Warwickshire – once, soon after the escape, when the note had simply read:

All is well. Make your home over the winter and look for me in the spring.

And the second, a few days ago, which told him only the name of the pub where they were to meet, and the date, and to be prepared for a long trip.

“I have been out of my mind this past winter, wondering what has gone on. Are you sure Keller is well?”

“Yes, I saw him just last week.” O’Reily wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, the weak sun doing nothing to cut the chill in the air. “He wants for the two of you to leave for the Italian coast. There’s a small island along the southern border, he said you would know of it.”

Tobias smiled. “I do. His father spoke of it often – it is the place where Christopher was conceived. We have talked often of going there.”

“The ship leaves in five days. We will have to decide if we want to wait in the woods until then, or find a room near London. It will be close quarters, if we four stay in that small cottage.”

“Then Ronald is still with Christopher.”

“He is. Keller plans for me to take him to his father after you two are safely gone.”

“And how does Ronald feel about this?”

“As you think he would. I have not heard him speak on the matter, but when Keller and I were discussing it last week, he left the room.”

Beecher’s face hardened. “I do not trust him, I wish he were gone.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

As evening approached, Beecher followed as Ryan left the road, moving through the trees on a barely marked path. After a couple miles, they came to a small clearing, with a small, rundown cottage in the middle. Ronald was there, washing clothes in an iron tub, set over a small fire.

“Be nice,” O’Reily whispered with a grin.

As they dismounted, Ronald moved from the tub and bowed stiffly. “M’lords.”

“Ronald.” Beecher could not wait to see Christopher. “Where is Sir Keller?”

“He is at the river.” The servant did not try to hide the resentment in his voice.

Tobias handed the reins of his horse to O’Reily, who pointed behind the cottage. “Just a short distance that way.”

Without a word, he hurried in that direction.

As he moved through the trees, he could hear the rush of the spring thaw not far ahead. As the trees cleared along the bank, there was Christopher, turning from the river, a string of fish in hand.

Tobias stopped and his breath caught. He had thought of nothing but this moment for all the time they had been separated.

When Christopher saw him, he too paused, and then raised the line of fish. “Will you join me?” he smiled.

Tobias stepped closer. “The word join has more than one meaning, as I have been told.”

The fish fell from Christopher’s hand and the two men were in each other’s arms.

“Toby, Toby, you are here.”

They pulled away, staring at each, taking in their fill of the face they had so loved and had so long missed.

“Sweet Mary, Christy, you look so well. Are you all healed?”

“I am, with yet another fine scar to show my refusal to die.”

“Do not joke of your death – your life is far too precious to me.”

As one, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss, holding each other tightly until the breath left their bodies.

When they finally were able to let go of each other, Christopher solemnly looked Tobias in the eye. “I am sorry, Toby.”

“Sorry?”

“I am sorry for believing, even for a moment, the lie that Ronald told me. I am sorry that our love for each other is so complicated.”

Tobias stroked his lover’s face. “We are two men, in love with each other, fool. No matter what may happen, it will be complicated. As for the other, it is forgotten. I know you would not truly believe I had dallied with Shillinger. It was a hard time, and it taught us to always be truthful, did it not?”

Christopher took his hand and kissed his fingertips. “It did. But I must also apologize for the abrupt manner in which we parted. Glory and O’Reily and I had already begun to discuss the escape – I feared so much your punishment if you were involved and the plan discovered. I had meant to discuss it with you first, but that night...”

“I understand, Glory and Ryan explained all to me. I know how you must have felt, wanting me away from Shillinger.” He pressed his lips to Christopher’s cheek. “Let us not linger in the past, but look forward to our future. Our ship leaves in five days time. O’Reily and I were trying to decide if it would be best to stay here or travel on, closer to London.”

A look passed over Christopher’s face, and he hesitated before speaking. “I have been thinking on this, love. Perhaps we should leave on separate ships.”

Tobias started to protest, but held his tongue and listened.

“There is more danger in us being recognized together. If you are alone, you can make many excuses for your presence on the London docks. But if it were ever mentioned that you were seen there with a man of my description, an investigation could be made. And likewise, if I were to be caught, and you were with me, that would be even worse.”

Tobias wanted to argue, but he knew that Christopher’s words were true – it was much easier for a single man to move unnoticed. “I agree, against the desire of my heart. Let us go and tell O’Reily, and get in front of a fire – this evening air chills me to the bone.”

Keller retrieved the fish he had caught, and the men slowly made their way to the cottage, neither wishing for company so soon after being reunited.

Tobias did not mean to bring it up, but he could not hold his tongue any longer. “How is Ronald? His hatred for me will never end, I am sure, but have you two come to peace with each other?”

“I believe so.” The knight’s voice was tinged with sorrow. “He was such a good servant, Toby, so loyal – I regret the hurt I have brought into his life. He will go to my father when we leave – I believe he will have a good life there.”

“I saw your father three weeks ago. He is doing well, and as bawdy as ever. When we are with the others I will tell you of the visit.”

As they neared the cottage, Beecher held to Christopher’s arm as he reached for the door, his face darkened by his shame. “I swore an oath to myself that I would not ask you this, but I will have no peace until I do – has Ronald shared your bed while we have been parted?” He could not even look up, hating himself for this weakness, but Christopher put his fingers under his chin and tilted his face to look him in the eye.

Keller’s own face was sober, though a trace of a smile softened the harsh edges. “The day you came to see me in the Tower was the day I foreswore all others. That was the day I knew you truly loved me as more than a brother, and if I never knew the pleasure of another man or woman, it would not matter.”

Tobias gently kissed Christopher’s lips, then threw back his head and laughed.

Christopher’s brow raised. “You find humor in my declaration of love.”

“I find humor in the fact that you say you would be fine without sex for the rest of your life.”

“Well,” Christopher said, pulling Tobias against him, “we will never know, because you and I will spend the rest of our lives in bed, thinking of new ways to pleasure each other.”

They fell into another kiss, though it was quickly cut short when the door opened and O’Reily stood there, shielding his eyes. “I have asked you, not in my presence, please!”

“It was you who opened the door, O’Reily,” Christopher noted.

“Only because we could hear what you are saying and I did not want it to go any further.”

The two men grinned at their friend and enter the small dwelling. It took only a moment to take in the meager furnishings – a cupboard on one wall, and across from that a large fireplace, with a small bed on each side and a table and two chairs set up between them.

Tobias could not help the mean spark of victory he felt at the sight of the two beds separated thusly. And he could not help but notice the dark stare directed at him from Ronald, who sat on the edge of one of the beds.

Christopher went to him, handing him the fish. “Would you take care of these, Ronald? There is still enough of the sun left to see by. Or are you sick of roasted fish by now?” Christopher grinned at the boy, but his dark mood could not be appeased and he left the cottage without answering.

It did not take Ronald long to clean the fish, and as it cooked on small sticks over the fire, Christopher and Tobias told O’Reily of their revised plan. “I think if Tobias leaves on the appointed day and I go a week later, that should be good. While he waits for me, he can find the best way to travel to Italy.”

O’Reily agreed and promised he would wait until Keller was gone before going home. “I should try to get a letter to Glory, though. I told her I would soon be back.”

Beecher looked up in surprise, and Ryan prepared for the talk he knew he must have. “You are going back to Reddam?”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Glory and I met...yesterday.”

“Yesterday! I saw her in the morning, when I went to say good-bye to my family.”

“I know, she told me. She could not bring herself to tell you this news herself, there was such a small amount of time and she was so nervous.”

“Nervous?”

Yes. I sent her a letter, asking her to meet me at the Church of Mary’s Sorrow.” He and Beecher were sitting at the table, and he reached for Beecher’s hand and held it tight. “I hope you do not hate me – I hope this will be joyous news for you...Glory and I were married. She awaits my return and then we will go to Ireland.”

Beecher’s hand had curled into a fist, with Ryan’s fingers caught, but he did not seem mad, only shocked.

“Beecher...Tobias, what say you?” Ryan pulled his hand free and rubbed at his crushed fingers.

Beecher stood and went to look into the fire. The room was silent, the crackling of the blaze the only noise. When Beecher finally turned, O’Reily held his breath. He wanted more than anything for this marriage to be accepted by his friend. He and Glory both knew they should have talked to him first, but it would not have mattered – they would have married no matter he had said.

“O’Reily, in all the years I have known you, you have played – at games, at life, at the ladies.” Beecher continued, in a voice exasperatingly calm and steady – O’Reily could glean no emotion. “If you think you are ready to become a husband, then who am I to argue that? Only know, Glory is a strong woman and will need a strong man. She is also generous, kind, and loving. You must be all these things in return, O’Reily. I know she loves you, she told me this on our journey home last fall. And if you will make her happy, I know she will do the same for you.” Beecher held open his arms. “Come here, brother.”

Ryan let go the breath he had been holding all this time and with relief went to the embrace of his dear friend. “I cannot tell you how my nerves have been on edge this whole day, awaiting your reaction.”

Beecher clapped Ryan on the back, and kissed his cheek. “For all your wicked ways, my friend, I know your ability to love.” He leaned in closer, whispering in his ear. “But if I ever hear of any grievance on the part of my sister, I will come at once and take her from you, do you understand?”

Ryan nodded. “You shall never hear of any such rumors, I promise you that.”

“I hate to think of how this news will pain my mother.”

“Aye, Glory cried as she thought of leaving that good lady.”

“Still, this is news to be celebrated, is it not?” Keller went to the door that led to the small lean-to behind the cottage, where the food was stored, returning with a bottle of wine.

As the men sat around the table, eating and drinking and listening to the story of Beecher’s visit to William Keller, Ryan realized that this night might be the last the three friends would be together. And this led his thoughts to the trip Beecher would soon be making – if anything were to happen, if the ship either of them were on were to be lost, this would also be their last time together.

Though the thought of two men together still was not right with him, he looked at Beecher and Keller only as his friends.

“I think,” he said, as the laughter died down, “that on the ’morrow, Ronald and I will ride to London and make sure the ship is still on schedule.”

Ronald looked with distress at Keller, and Ryan knew he would not want to go. Keller was looking at Beecher, then to Ryan.

“A day there and a day back, and then again, if you accompany Tobias.”

“And then back again for you, Keller. I will see you both on your way.”

“That is much traveling, O’Reily.”

“Aye, but this room is too small for all of us, do you not think?”

“Lord Beecher could just leave with you now!” Ronald looked toward Keller, the desperation so heavy in his eyes that Ryan felt pity for the boy.

“Ronald, do not forget yourself.” Keller’s tone was firm, but his eyes compassionate.

The servant flung himself from the table and ran outside.

“I will give him a moment, then go after him,” Keller said.

“Ryan, are you sure you want to do this? I do believe that the boy is right, it stands more to reason that you and I leave now.”

“It does, but you two are just reunited – enjoy this time I give to you.” Ryan knew how hard it was to leave the one you loved – he and Glory had only the afternoon together, their marriage not even consummated, before he had to leave her.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

After Keller talked with Ronald, O’Reily decided they would leave that night. At this, both Keller and Beecher protested, but O’Reily assured them it would be all right. They would spend the night at the small town down the road, returning in two full days time. And Ryan would take Beecher’s pack mule, putting it in a stable near the shipyard.

Far into the night, Christopher and Tobias sat at the table and talked. They talked of their future and what they saw in it for themselves. They talked of the regret they had leaving their families, Christopher especially sorrowful that he would never see his father again.

“He understands, Christy, and was happy when I told him of our plans.”

“Was he ever questioned?”

“Questioned?”

“Yes, by the Queen’s men, or Shillinger?”

“He said only briefly, that Robson and his band of men came by, looking through his home. He played false at being too senile to know what was happening, and was believed.”

“So, Robson was put in charge of finding me?”

Tobias nodded.

“I wish I had known, I could have stopped worrying the day I left!” Christopher laughed aloud, but then quieted when he noticed Beecher’s silence. “What is it? Toby, what?”

“It is nothing, and you speak true. Robson was able to find no information about you.”

“But he tried.”

“And failed. What say you build up that fire and we go to bed? Do you think we will both fit, or should we push them together?”

Christopher got up and tended to the fire, though Tobias could see he did not want to end the conversation. Tobias saw no need to tell Christopher of the endless hours he spent at the mercy of Robson and his men. He rubbed his fingers over his thumbs – they had healed quickly, and no one need ever know.

Soon, all else was forgotten as the two men lay in each other’s arms, warming each other with their naked bodies, pressed together as much from necessity as from need on the narrow bed.

Their desire was so high, their passion so intense that it took them only minutes, with their hands between them, to find their release. They lay gasping and kissing, the cold long forgotten as the heat rolled from them.

They slept then, waking after the sun had already risen, to find the fire dead and the early spring sun offering no warmth. Christopher jumped from the bed and ran to retrieve the pail of water that sat on the other side of the fireplace. Back in bed he took the corner of the blanket and wet it, wiping first Tobias, then himself clean. “What shall we do today?” he asked, snuggling back into the warm cocoon of the bed, laying with head on Tobias’ chest.

Tobias looked at the ceiling, rubbing slow circles on Christy’s back. “Do you know, this is the first time in well over a year that we can answer that question in any way we want? It is the first time since we declared our love that we are free.”

“I know, Toby, and I know how I wish to start this day.”

It was on the tip of Toby’s tongue to ask how that was, but he received his answer when Christy’s tongue slid down his stomach. He pressed his hand to his mouth, choking back the groan there as Christopher’s mouth found its destination.

Christy reached up and pulled his hand away. “There is no one here but me, and I would hear the noises that I cause you to make.” And then his lips and tongue were back, pulling sounds from Tobias that he could not remember ever making before. When he came, he cried his lover’s name, almost weeping in his pleasure.

The rest of that day was spent with the lovers never leaving the other’s side, touching, kissing and talking. In the afternoon, Christopher took a stick, and in the hard dirt in front of the cottage, he drew a picture for Tobias.

“This will be our villa, Signore. Here is our home, and behind it we will grow grapes, just enough to keep ourselves pleasantly drunk. And we will raise sheep, and have mutton for dinner and you will spin their wool.”

“I? What do I know of spinning?” Tobias laughed.

“You are the farmer, you have sheep.”

“I know of feeding them and eating them. Everything in between is mystery to me.”

That night, Tobias could not remember being so happy. “Christy, how did we live before this? How was life even tolerable?”

“Toby, Toby, to see you so happy and content makes me feel joyous beyond measure.”

They were undressing each other, slowly, touching and kissing each bit of flesh as it was uncovered, until they could take no more and were soon ripping the clothes from their bodies.

In bed, they slowed again, taking their time as they never could before to discover all of the other. Tobias traced and kissed all of the scars of his lover, leaving Christopher gasping his name and reaching eagerly for him. But Tobias stilled his hands and kissed him softly. “I want you to take me, Christy, now.” And he rolled over onto his stomach, offering himself to Christopher.

When there was no reaction, he turned his head to find Christopher sitting up, staring at him, but not moving. “Christy?”

“Toby, you do not know how I have longed for this moment, but I do not think now is the time.”

“And why is that?”

Christopher smiled and ran his hands over Tobias’ back, down to the soft globes of his ass. “Because, you will soon be in a saddle for most of the day. After the first time, it can be quite uncomfortable, you know.” He leaned over and kissed the path his hands had just taken. “But there are other things I can do for you.” He shifted until he was kneeling between Toby’s legs and buried his face in Toby’s backside.

Tobias jumped and curled his fingers into the blankets as Christy’s mouth and tongue explored every part of him. It was a shock, yet it pushed him to such heights of desire he was soon humping against the mattress.

“Christy, please, I don’t care. Please make love to me.”

“I am, Toby, I am.”

“Fuck me!”

Christopher made Tobias roll over, saying he wanted to see his face while they did this. Then he readied Toby, so slowly, with his mouth and tongue and fingers, coated with oil form the lamp.

Finally, finally, Christopher rested Toby’s legs on his shoulders. As he looked down at him, his face shining in the glow from the fire, Tobias saw his eyes had filled with tears. Stroking his cheek, he asked if all was well.

“It is almost too much to bear, Toby. I have dreamed of this moment so many times that I feared if it ever really came to pass, the truth could not live up to the fantasy. But it has far surpassed the dream – you are my dream in the flesh.”

Christopher went slowly, sweat soon covering his brow as he strained to go as carefully as possible. Tobias held tight to his shoulders, having known no pain such as this. But as Christopher moved inside him, the pain, though still present, gave way to something else, a feeling of fullness and closeness and...he did not know how to express it. He felt his very soul connect with his lover and he urged him on even deeper. When they were done, Christopher, still inside Tobias, lay his head on his shoulder and wept. Tobias held him and whispered words of love in his ear and almost felt fear at the depths of his feeling for this man.

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

The next day was spent much as the first, with Tobias moving a bit slower, and Christopher worrying over him. “Will you be okay? Perhaps we can fasten a fur to your saddle.”

Tobias had laughed. “I think I will be fine. I cannot imagine explaining to O’Reily my need for a padded saddle.”

That night, Christopher urged Tobias to reverse their positions of the night before. “I long to feel you inside me, Toby.”

Tobias stroked Christopher’s head and cheeks, but shook his head. “I understand the need – I have never felt closer to anyone than when I felt you moving inside me. But tonight I would have us holding each other, if it pleases you. Being inside of you will be something I look forward to - it will be a celebration of our new lives.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

It was almost dark on the third day when O’Reily returned, alone.

“Where is Ronald?” Both Beecher and Keller asked together.

“He said he could not return, only to have Keller leave him again. He wished me to tell you good-bye, and that he hoped you not forget him.”

Keller hung his head. “I have failed him.”

Beecher touched his arm. “You did all you could do, you know that.”

“It seems I did not.”

“Perhaps you did too much,” Beecher ventured. “You loved him and forgave him anything he did. This time he just could not accept that you would actually turn from him.”

“And this is to console me?”

“I do not mean to cause you more pain, Christopher. I only try to help understand.”

Keller said no more, and the three men quietly went to bed.

The next morning, Keller was feeling better, hoping out loud that Ronald would find a good place in life.

“Perhaps he will make his way to your father, after all,” Ryan offered.

“Perhaps. Now go check the horses, O’Reily, and give Beecher and I a moment alone.”

Soon, Beecher was on his horse and Keller was waving them off.

“Take care of each other, and keep your eyes open.”

“I will be back in a few days, Keller.”

When Ryan and Beecher were only a few paces out of sight of the cottage, they both reined in their horses, having heard a voice call out.

“Keller, come outside. I know you are here!”

The two men looked at each, and dismounted, tying off the animals. Beecher grabbed O’Reily’s sleeve. “That is Robson’s voice,” he whispered, his eyes wide in fear.

“I know. Stay low and quiet.”

The two snuck back toward the cottage, moving through a copse of fir trees, keeping themselves hidden.

There, in the clearing, stood James Robson, with three mounted men. As one of the horses moved nervously, Ryan realized the rider was not one of Robson’s companions, but Keller’s boy Ronald.

He turned toward Beecher, just managing to cover the man’s mouth with his hand before he could call out as he recognized him also. “Stay quiet, Beecher, we must not be caught.” Ryan was whispering urgently in Beecher’s ear. “There are three of them and three of us. If we play this correctly, we can save Keller. But we cannot rush in until we see what they plan.”

Beecher shook away Ryan’s hand. “They plan to take Keller to the Tower, where he will be killed, what else could it be?” But he held steady and the two watched as Keller came from the cottage.

“And where are Beecher and the Irishman?”

“Not here.”

Robson entered the cottage and soon was back. “Where are they?”

“Why would I know?” His tone was cocky and light, but Ryan could see the sag of his posture as he looked at the horsemen and realized that Ronald was among them.

“Because they were just here. I can see the tracks of the horses in the dirt. Should I follow them, or will you cooperate?”

Ryan took hold of Beecher’s arm, preparing to flee if anyone came in their direction.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“It would be so much easier if you would just tell us the name of the ship Beecher will be sailing on. Perhaps matters will go easier for you if you help us catch him and O’Reily.”

Beecher hissed. “I will kill that betraying bastard Ronald if I have to die in the process.”

“Shhh...”

“Very well, gather your cloak and let us be on our way.” Robson pointed at Ronald. “You will ride with your whore.”

“No!” Ronald shouted and slid from his horse. “No, please, Sir, just tell them what you know. He promised me that if he could have Beecher and O’Reily, he will leave you alone. It is them he wants, not you. You and I can safely leave the country.”

The boy was on his knees, turning from Keller to Robson. “Please, m’lord, tell him. Tell him he can have his freedom if he will only tell.”

Ryan could see the sorrow and pity on Keller’s face as he reached out and touched the servant’s hair. “Oh, Ronald, I have failed you so. Robson will never let me go, no matter if I were to personally bring him the heads of Beecher and O’Reily.”

“No, he promised. When I saw him in London, I first meant to run, but then I made this deal with him. He told me...he told me, if he could have two of the three he sought, he would be happy and let you go.”

“It matters not, does it, boy? I have only the one, the prize that Shillinger longs for.”

Ronald jumped to his feet. “You can find them! Why do you tarry? If you leave now you can find them!”

“Quiet, brat!” Robson swung his fist and knocked Ronald to the ground.

“Bastard!” Keller knelt by the boy, holding his head gently.

“Get up, Keller. I am done with this.”

“Very well, Robson, I am yours. I will give you no trouble, only let this boy go and cease your search for Beecher and O’Reily.” Keller still knelt, looking up Robson.

“I did mean that I am done with this. Shillinger does not want you in the Tower, he wants you in the ground, shot dead while trying to escape.”

Beecher started at these words, but Ryan held him tight.

“Sentiment is high in your favor, Keller. You have songs sung about you in the pubs and taverns, did you know? If you are taken to the Tower, Shillinger is sure it will be for only a short time, and you be kept in relative luxury. I had thought to do the deed closer to London – traveling with a dead body is so unseemly, but I grow weary and wish to be on my way.”

From beneath his cloak, Robson pulled a pistol, pointing it at the man at his feet. “Stand up, I will not shoot you on the ground.”

As Keller made to stand, both Beecher and O’Reily broke from their hiding spot, running toward the cottage. Robson’s attention was distracted for just a moment, and Keller moved toward him. As he ran, all this happened in the space of a moment, but to Ryan the moment seemed never to have end. Robson turned back just in time and leveled the gun at Keller.

Ryan and Beecher both shouted “No!” as did a third voice. Ryan saw the flash as the wheel lock sparked the powder. But the shot did not find its intended target. The third voice belonged to Ronald, who had gotten to his feet and flung himself in front of Keller.

The boy froze, his face a mask of shock – and then he fell into Keller’s arms. The noise of the gunshot had spooked one of the horses, and he had jumped, unseating his rider who did not stay to see the outcome of the confrontation, but ran after his horse, never to return. Ryan easily unhorsed the other man and sent him to sleep with two blows to his chin.

Beecher had Robson on the ground, with his knife at the man’s throat. “Tell me why I should not – tell me!”

Ryan went to Beecher and took the knife from him. “Go to Keller, Tobias.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

Tobias looked behind him. Keller was on the ground, holding the dying boy in his arms. He went to him, kneeling behind him, his hands on his shoulders, saying nothing, just holding him as held the boy.

“M’lord?” Ronald looked up and Tobias could see the brilliance of his lovely blue eyes fading in the morning sun.

“Yes, my boy, what is it?” Christopher could hardly speak through his sorrow.

“Are you safe?”

Tobias felt a sob go through the knight, and his hands tightened on the shaking arms.  
Christopher took a deep breath. “I am safe, Ronald, you have saved me.”

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

The boy’s eyelids fluttered, and Christopher bent his head closer. “I love you, Ronald.”

The eyes slowly opened, and a smile graced the trembling lips as they drew their last breath. “I...” and he was gone.

Christopher held the boy for several minutes, and Tobias continued to hold him. He felt the sun warm his back and heard the call of the birds start up again after the scare of the gunshot. It was hard to imagine such violence and sadness in the midst of it. Keller sat until he had himself calmed. Or that is what Tobias thought, as he gently lay the body on the ground and got to his feet. And then, his red eyes turned dark, he turned toward Robson.

“I will kill him,” he snarled.

“I am afraid not,” O’Reily said, as he stood up from where he had been keeping Robson down. He held out Beecher’s knife, now covered in blood.

Tobias gasped, and both men went to where Robson lay, a bloom of red spreading on his white jerkin; they looked to O’Reily.

“He tried to take the knife from me,” the Irishman shrugged. “I had no choice.”

Keller grabbed the front of O’Reily’s shirt. “Did you take that kill from me?”

Calmly, O’Reily answered. “I told you, I had no choice.”

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

They buried the boy far out in the woods, close to the river. Robson, they tied to the horse Ronald had been riding and handed the reins to Robson’s remaining companion. “Take him to Shillinger,” they instructed, assured the scared man would do as told.

The three men quickly gathered Keller’s belongings and began riding north. They could not go back to London, in case anyone there knew that Robson had been on their trail. Beecher’s belongings would have to be left behind, but he felt no need for any of it. He had plenty of money with him, more than enough for a new life somewhere.

Christopher had never told Ronald where he was planning to settle, so they felt safe in continuing on to Italy. They would have to leave from a northern port, perhaps landing in Germany, further from their destination than planned, but they were in no hurry, and thought perhaps they would even travel for a while before settling.

Ryan still planned on going back to the Beecher estate for his bride, though he promised to go slowly and make sure he was not being followed before taking her away.

The three friends parted in the early afternoon. Beecher and Keller could not say enough to thank their Irish brother for all his help.

“Somehow, someday, we will meet again. I hope God shines his love upon you always.” And with that, Ryan O’Reily turned and left them.

They were on their own, the unknown welcoming them to begin their lives anew.

 

Epilogue:

Christopher walked up the low hill to his home, the home he shared with Beecher. It had taken them over a year to get here, traveling through Germany and France, enjoying the sights and the freedom they had.

The scratched dirt drawing he had made that afternoon, in front of the small cottage that had been his home for that winter, had come true. They had the vineyard and even a small herd of sheep. Tobias had hired a girl down the hill to spin the wool for them.

As he neared the house, he saw Tobias in the yard, checking on their small vegetable garden. At first, Tobias had been worried that a gentle life such as this would not be enough excitement for him. Every time he would say such a thing, Christopher would take him to bed and make love to him until he was senseless and unable to worry.

Now they were settled and though sometimes he did miss the excitement of the English court, he would trade none of his life for it.

He had managed to exchange letters twice with his father, before getting word that the old man had died two months ago. It grieved him that he had not seen him in the last years before his death, but it did hearten him that Tobias had visited with him.

They still had not heard from O’Reily, though they had sent letters three times with acquaintances traveling to Ireland. Nothing in the letters was specific, and not even signed by either, only their love and assurances that all was well. They spent much time thinking on the happy life Ryan and Glory and Cyril were living.

Tobias saw him and waved, and began walking toward him. The sun was setting in the hills behind him, and his blond hair was glowing like a golden red halo. Christopher felt his heart skip – he sometimes was still surprised at moments like these, that his beautiful Toby was really his.

As his lover came into his arms, he looked Heavenward, knowing that any God he wished to believe in would not bar them from His Kingdom. And even if He did, it would not matter, for they were already living their Heaven on Earth.

 

~`~end~`~

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